The Violinist
by NikuSweets
Summary: Regina Galante is a naive but gifted violinist living in the Soviet Union. Her life changes when she meets the influential Braginski family. AU/Genderbending
1. Chapter 1

Regina Galante firmly believed people's positive traits were balanced by their negative. She believed no one was truly better or less than other person. This is something she'd always tell herself whenever she'd fail a test, get hurt in P.E. or botch up her art class. She was virtually useless in any sort of academics, physical activity or art project.

She always grew up being behind other children, always in shadows. It got to the point where she preferred no company, and when people were around, she developed a nasty sort of shake. Regina had no idea when she started shaking; it began as a tremble and left as a nasty tremor when she was worked up enough. The stutter that came along with the shaking added to the embarrassment.

A small change brought light into her lonely life. Her dear uncle. He loved all his children, but she was his favorite little niece. He was a kind man, but terrible old and ailing. Nobody was surprised when he suddenly died, and she was terribly heartbroken. Regina normally cried a lot, but she was inconsolable through the whole funeral and months afterwards. Her parents and brother tried their best to console her, nothing seemed to work.

Months later, Regina would still sniffle or whimper whenever she thought of him. She lost a close friend and confidant. Her fifteenth birthday was just a week away, but she hardly thought of it.

She was just thinking about him when her parents came into her room with grave faces. Oh, what now? She didn't want anymore bad news or attempted consoling. She began to shake harder than she normally did, her big eyes looking ready to pop out.

"Regina, dear," Her mother had a soft smile. "Your uncle left you something in his will."

She sniffed and felt her eyes get wet. She didn't want any money, why would they think that? As her mother quickly went to wipe her tears with a dirty apron, her father said quickly, "You'll like it. It's beautiful."

From behind his back he retrieved a black case. It was clearly for a violin, with real black leather, with gold embroidery going up and down it to form glittering daisies and oak trees- the national flower and tree of Latvia, her family's true home, the birthplace of her parents. She gawked at it when her father handed it to her. It was showing age, but the leather was so soft and the detail of the embroidery was amazing. She saw her uncle's name engraved in silver on the side. Raivis Galante.

Her mother chuckled gently, "Well, are you going to open it?"

That just now occurred to Regina. The case itself would've been enough. She undid the clasps, and stared in awe at the instrument before it. She wasn't a craftsman at all, but she knew this was a handsome piece of work. It had a nice wood smell, she wouldn't have known what sort of wood it was, but it had such a lovely color. She smiled at the little daisy on the tailpiece, and the body had two tall oak trees with birds peeping from the leaves. It was stunning, and she felt herself crying and shaking again. "Th-th-thank you," She mumbled over and over, closing the case as her mother held her.

They honestly didn't expect her to play it, but were grateful for her considerable lift in mood. Besides, it was more of a decoration to be put in a display case, to be viewed in her uncle's memory. That's where it went, a lovely display her father constructed, placed in her room. Regina always loved classical music, but didn't believe she could play it. Regina had some experience with the piano, but a violin seemed to be in a completely different class.

Maybe it was weeks, months or even days that passed. One very ordinary, simple day, Regina went to the case and removed the stringed instrument. She brought teaching books from the library. She made sure her parents or Eduard weren't home so they wouldn't hear if she messed up.

Regina shook as she put the oak instrument under chin, so very afraid it'd sound terrible or she'd break it. She tried to hold her hands steady as they held the bow. And finally she played a single note.

It sounded wonderful. She tried again, playing the warm-ups on the books.

Within an hour she was playing the nursery rhymes they provided.

The next hour she played their more complicated songs.

And by the time it was late at night and her parents and brother came home, she was writing her own music.

Regina breathed clearly, smelling the wood finish on the violin. She never thought her hands were graceful, but here they were, shake-free and gliding the bow across the strings. The peace was interrupted when her brother burst into the room, and he was the first applause she ever got.

Regina finally gathered the courage to try out for her school's orchestra. She became the star pupil after three or four concerts.

By the time the school year was over, Regina had starred in several of the school's programs, including background music for their plays. Her teacher said she'd be famous. No one ever said that to her, joking or not.

The next year Regina struggled with her math, but nobody cared as long as she played. Her teacher took her with the older orchestra students to national competitions. Soon the teacher just brought her, and she played before hundreds to thousands. She gained attention throughout Russia. This small, mousy girl who cried if you so much as said "boo" could play beautifully. Not just beautiful, she could play sad or powerful. Strong and loud or light and sweet. She could play many styles.

Regina wasn't too aware of her fame. She was still shy and shook once the bow stopped moving and the song ended. She still stuttered, even when mumbling thanks and bowing in front of clapping hands. But she did love the applause. She loved people saying they liked her music, because she knew they wouldn't like anything else about her.

When Regina was seventeen, her teacher was very excited. She'd be performing in Moscow, before thousands, during December. She along with many other musicians would be playing and singing in honor of their great Soviet Union, led by their equally great Stalin.

Regina had never been to Moscow. She felt excited to visit a big city. Her parents didn't share her happiness. She heard them talking when they thought wasn't listening.

"What is this, to the city? She hasn't been out of this village," Her mother sighed.

"_Dorogaya moya_, this is the only chance she'll ever have. When could we afford to ever visit Moscow?" Her father reasoned. "And you've heard what the radios say: it's a beautiful and very modern city, with great people. She'll be comfortable."

Her mother sighed again, heaving her shoulders as she did so. "I don't know, I don't like it…"

Regina's heart sunk and she wanted to cry right there. But her brother came into the room and startled her parents.

"Think about her feels," He scolded. "It's the biggest audience Regina has ever played for. She'll feel like a princess, and she deserves that."

Regina thanked her brother deeply in her heart. Her parents didn't protest when she left weeks later.

Bundled in a thick coat and boots, her teacher helped her weave through the crowds. Some people performed outside, even if it was freezing. They said she would play inside a massive and stunning theatre, the grandest in all of Europe. She'd feel like a real artist, they said, it'd be like playing before royalty in the times of the czars. She was never taught anything about the time of the czars, but she assumed it to be a very good thing.

Moscow was beyond anything she ever dreamed of. She'd never seen so many tall buildings or so many people bustling about. She wondered how everybody kept track of everyone; in her village she knew all the families and children. She saw more people in a single street than her whole school.

She could stare and sightsee all day, but her teacher took her to the massive Bolshoi Theatre. The outside was amazing enough; it looked so elegant and important with its tall white columns and the bold statues at the top.

Inside, it was the first time Regina had seen what "electricity" was- of course, it was available in her village, but shortages and blackouts were common. The theatre was just so big, with so many pretty looking seats that were soft and cushioned. There were even large balconies. Could so many people really be gathering in such a dazzling place, just to hear her perform? She felt her face heat up.

Her teacher took her to a small part of the backstage, a little room called "make up". Well, she knew what that was, but her teacher explained it. "You need to look your best for the performance."

Regina was expecting a pretty but simple traditional dress her mother packed with her hair braided and put in a bun. They completely discarded her dress. She had always been short and rather flat, but they put her in a beautiful, flattering maroon dress. They styled her messy, long brown hair into heaping curls. Her mother never let her wear make up due to their family virtue of frugality, but the artists put it on by the pound. Lots of powder on her cheeks, lots of odd pencils around her eyes, lots of bright colors put on her lips. They gave her white heels- again, another thing she wasn't allowed to wear or couldn't afford to. She was given sparkling bracelets, earrings and a necklace she couldn't imagine what was worth. Regina felt uneasy wearing, let alone touching them.

When they were finished, they proudly gave her a mirror. Regina blushed and trembled. She went from a plain and pale village girl to a very appealing and well-kept woman. She gave the illusion she went to perform and watch at the theatre often, and had money to prove it. She didn't have time to completely observe herself because her teacher ran in, flushed from running and a sudden anxiety.

"I-I've just heard! Comrade Colonel Ivan Braginski will be here with his sisters-!"

That blew the wind out of the whole room. They ran around frantically, dragging Regina out. She struggled to keep up with them in her heels, and honestly didn't understand what the panic was for. She didn't know who Comrade Ivan Braginski was, but they did, and she knew she'd get scolded and yelled at if she inquired. Perhaps just a typical, high ranking official? It was natural he'd be here with family, but everybody was making a huge deal and Regina was nervous. She shook a bit harder, thinking of things that would go wrong.

She was placed in the middle of the stage, with her familiar violin. The staff insisted she used an especially decorated and new one, as hers had visible wear. She was thankful her teacher told them off. Regina was given typical words of encouragement as they waited for the audience to have their seats and for some important man to finish his speech.

When he was done, the audience clapped politely. Just a thin curtain separated her and the man and she hardly heard a word he said. She didn't have to go over her music mentally; she knew it completely by heart.

She could see the faint outline of the familiar yellow hammer and sickle on the other side of the curtain. She watched it rise for only a moment before turning her attention to the full theatre house. Everyone was dressed up like her, the women in beautiful dresses and the men in black military uniforms. They all smiled as the announcer said her name. Regina always flushed when that happened. A full orchestra was behind her, just as ready. The clapping died down and she attacked her violin with the bow as soon as the conductor signaled it. The sound bouncing off the theatre almost startled her into stopping. It was louder than any other concert she'd done.

As the concert when from song to song, up high in the largest balcony, the famed Comrade Colonel Ivan Braginski was already bored of the whole program. He took to studying his large hands as the, God, the sixth song played. He didn't have any taste for music. But Yekaterina loved this kind of thing; she intensely studied every famous composer and every song they ever played. He couldn't refuse his cute older sister, she looked like a little kid at Christmas, even if this was small pickings compared to the lavish concerts they'd attended before.

"Oh, Vanya, she's so cute!" Yekaterina whispered quickly as the song ended and the orchestra readied for the next one. "And she plays beautifully. Don't you think?"

He didn't know what decent or beautiful playing was. He just knew that when the violin screeched and the strings broke, that was bad. But he replied, "Da, Katyusha. It's lovely."

His sister smiled so sweetly he almost felt bad for being disinterested. Yekaterina turned to their youngest sister, who was on her brother's side. "Nataha, are you enjoying yourself?"

The stiff woman tensed, but she nodded solemnly. Ivan always thought his sisters were opposites. Yekaterina was big and warm, and although Natalya was much prettier, she was cold and a little... touched in the head. The three quickly shut up at the next song began, because Natalya and Ivan knew theatre more than a hobby or source of entertainment for their sister. They were both inattentive, and Ivan drank a few shots while Natalya glared holes into the stage.

The set ended, and Regina bowed shyly, like she always did. Her faced turned the color of her dress and she wanted to very much leave and just listen to the applause from backstage, but being the star, she had to stay. The audience wished for encore and she played a solemn lullaby, one of her favorites, that was in stark contrast to the powerful and intense music played just before. It felt familiar to Ivan, as he had known that song all his life.

The people around them stood and began to leave and Yekaterina's face fell. "Oh brother," She sighed, "Can't we meet her? I want to thank her in person."

"I will see what I can do," Ivan smiled. Why did his sister always ask things like that? With his position, he could give his siblings half of Russia. He didn't bother to stand up, instead sending for the manager to get the violinist. He knew they wouldn't hesitate to send her up. But he always wondered why Yekaterina insisted on personally thanking musicians they saw, as if they gave her some great gift. Sometimes she was as odd as Natalya.

Fifteen minutes and two shots of vodka later, Ivan was looking directly at the girl. He couldn't believe how small and young she was, even in the heels and makeup. Natalya was probably her age, but everyone always thought she was older. He noticed the girl was quivering, making the flowing dress shake. He noted the color looked lovely on her, even if her body was rather plain and she looked like the wind could blow her over. He thought it was funny how girls either shook or flirted when near him.

Yekaterina stood up quickly; she was wearing flats but towered over Regina. "Regina Galantaya? I loved your performance," She praised, deciding to stay by her seat because if she got any closer she'd have to look down. "The third song especially, I could distinctly hear you above the others."

"Th-thank you..." Regina could only mumble this. She cursed herself for not adding "Comrade Braginski" (but was she really worthy to say such a thing?) or complimenting the woman in some way. She felt it was Yekaterina's overwhelming height, her sister's cold eyes or their brother's heavy stare that was draining her confidence. She told herself she didn't care about these people, she didn't know them, but the man's decorated uniform and the girls' jewels expressed their status and importance.

Yekaterina continued, "Oh, I wish I could play something, even a little instrument, like a flute. I wasn't given that blessing, but I still just love to see concerts like this, ballets are just as well. I could name every song you were playing." Regina could have sworn the woman was going to start crying, her voice was certainly quivering enough. Regina's nerves only grew more uncomfortable as she began fiddled with her diamond bracelet.

"Th-thank you, m-miss... Thank you..." Now she felt like crying from embarrassment or happiness, she wasn't sure which yet. Fear would be a good reason to cry too.

Ivan chuckled to himself as the two girls' eyes began to brim with tears without them realizing it. Yekaterina was always generous with tears for everybody. She never thought of herself for a moment. He glanced down at Natalya, who was attached to his hip, as always. She was a little less tolerable, but his sister, so he loved her as well. She was quiet, watching Yekaterina thoughtfully, as if wanting to thank Regina too. He wasn't going to, so he knew she wouldn't. He was thinking how Regina Galante wasn't a very Russian name- she was probably from some other territory in the Soviet Union.

Yekaterina continued to babble on about all the ballets she saw as a child, and Regina was nodding in agreement; she loved ballets too. Twenty minutes of Yekaterina crying and chatting and Regina bobbing her head was enough for Natalya. Her brother was patient because of the alcohol, and he never let her drink, so she was restless. Almost everyone had cleared out. She turned to him, "Brother, we will miss the other festivities." She didn't want to see those either, but anything to get out of the stuffy theatre.

Ivan was thankful, because Yekaterina heard them and sighed. "Da, you're right. I said I'd see everything." As Ivan took one last shot, Yekaterina said her goodbyes to Regina. The shorter girl was saddened by their leave, as she was actually very comfortable around the sweet woman. Yekaterina retrieved her purse, and as she and her siblings headed for the door, she called over her shoulder, "If I see or hear your name, I will certainly come listen to you again!"

Regina flushed all the way to her hotel room, hours later, after she and her teacher listened and watched all the other performances. They toured as much as they could of Moscow, because Regina just couldn't get enough of all that she saw. It was like another world.

Regina was happy to be in the warm room, because even with a thick shawl and scarf, her dress and heels were freezing her to the bone. They insisted she wear the finery all day, even if it meant semi hypothermia. The make up artists took the jewels and heels back, but assured her she could keep the dress. This was more than Regina asked for, and along with this, the eldest Braginskaya's praise and the whole concert, she was floating on clouds all the way to her bed. It was bigger and cozier than she'd ever slept on or imagined, and went to bed as early as she could so she could relax in it.

On the other side of Moscow, the Braginskis had checked into a very lavish inn with beautiful rooms, reserved for those of political importance. Each sibling had gotten their own room, but the girls stayed in Ivan's room while they talked and readied for bed.

The sisters were already in their nightgowns, thick robes wrapped around them. Yekaterina was brushing Natalya's hair as she talked. "I thought the dancers were very nice. The crafts they displayed by the stage were lovely as well. I bought a few nesting dolls."

Ivan smiled at her as he took off his uniform. "You already have so many Katyusha."

"Oh, da, Vanya, but I love them so much! Especially if they're as well made as these." To prove her point, Yekaterina dug through her purse and produced the little dolls. They were very detailed and one set was bright pink, while the other was green. She already had so many lining her shelves, desk and book case at home, but no one had to spoil her fun. Ivan smiled at the youngest, "And you, Nataha? Any lacquer boxes suit you?"

That's what Natalya collected, and she always filled the boxes with some odd thing or another. "I did not," She said simply. She was very particular about what she bought, always picky, no matter what she was shopping for.

"Vanya should've bought his own souvenirs!" Yekaterina smiled, returning to the task of her sister's hair. Ivan smiled back but thought why on earth would he want anything street artists had to sell? That's probably what stopped Natalya from getting anything. That was a small thing they had in a common, a taste for expensive items. The conversation went on until Yekaterina went from talking to yawning. Natalya had already fallen asleep on the couch, and after Ivan carried her to her room and kissed Yekaterina goodnight, he retired himself.

* * *

Millionth Edit: This is seriously the _eighth_ edit I've done with this chapter. Jeez xD More to come, I'm sure!

Anyhoo, I'm going over all the chapters and 'Russian-ifying' and 'Soviet-ifying' to make them much more realistic. If anyone has ideas for future chapters or info on the Soviet Union during the 60's, please don't hestitate to drop a review, PM or email~!


	2. Chapter 2

When she returned home, Regina's family had a warm welcome for her. They had heard a little bit about her performance on the radio, and couldn't be prouder. She was crying from joy because of their happiness, and expressed in great detail all she saw in Moscow. She didn't leave out a single bit, even mentioning the color of the tallest buildings or the wallpaper of her hotel room. She told so much and was so tired from the trip home, her mother didn't bother commenting on her uncurling hair or the dress, which went against the strict frugality that was preached to her family everyday.

Later, while unpacking her suitcase, Eduard came into her room, with his familiar brotherly smile. "Did you have fun?"

"I-I did," She was still grinning and shivering from excitement. The previous night was still vivid in her mind, the excited cheering and applause still ringing in her ears. She knew she'd be dreaming about the city for weeks.

"Mama and papa are very proud."

Regina knew that, but she blushed nonetheless. "Y-yes, th-thank you." Why was she thanking her brother? Sometimes Regina felt like she was a little slow. Eduard was about to leave, but she spoke up. "E-Eduard... So-someday, I w-want us to g-go to M-Moscow."

"You like it that much?"

"I-I think I love it," Regina breathed.

Eduard smiled. "One day, we will, just you and me."

Even though that was a completely impossible desire, he still though his sisters' beaming face was adorable. He wished he had been there, to see just as much as she did, but to also have seen her performance. Eduard was the village doctor, for what it was worth, and attended her performances as much as he could. He was so glad Regina took up the violin; when their uncle died she was desolate for months. Her mother worried for her already weak health. Regina was doing worse in school and although education was free, her parents still worried they'd kick her out. But then they found the violin mentioned in the will, the violin no one had seen in years. Not only did Regina learn the instrument swiftly, she was doing better in academics (gym was still a failing subject, but she was frail, so...). Eduard believed the playing gave her some confidence, just a little, and he though she needed as much as she could get.

It always bothered Eduard how timid and fearful his sister was. She really had no reason to be. His parents were kind and she wasn't bullied, at least not that he knew of. But at the same time she hadn't mentioned any friends and never showed talent in anything before.

When Regina heard her brother reach the last step, the loud creaking one, she slowly closed her door. Somehow being back home after visiting such a wondrous place made her feel down. She felt a little lonely, which was something Regina rarely felt, as she enjoyed being alone. People made her nervous. Somehow, she kept thinking of Miss Braginskaya, thinking of what a nice lady she was. Most adults weren't kind to her or her family, because of them being Latvian. Regina was a sheltered child, and she couldn't make sense of people's general dislike of her people. The Polish and Lithuanian children were looked down upon as well, always picked last, called on last and teased the most. Regina wondered why they weren't accepted, if they were part of the greatest nation in the world. The radio said everybody was equal in the USSR.

Somehow, she felt better, remembering how nice Miss Braginskaya treated her. Even if her two siblings weren't as sociable, she really wished the nice lady would be there to watch her upcoming recital.

While Ivan Braginski and his father were busy discussing the dark intentions of the American military, Yekaterina was enjoying a freedom she rarely got. Her father always insisted she be escorted by her brother, _always_ her brother. While ladies her age were being escorted by handsome officers or friends of their father's, but that wasn't heard of in her house. But now, with two of some of the most influential and powerful soldiers in Russia gone on important political meetings in the capital, she roamed the streets freely.

Her short walk around Leningrad would not be considered "scandalous" because her family nearly owned the city. Yekaterina was oblivious to all of this; of course, she was ignorant in politics and disinterested with boring talks of what other countries were doing. Yekaterina figured, as long as her family and people were happy and safe, she'd stay optimistic.

The people of Leningrad, of course, knew her and her family. But they favored her over the rest of the Braginski siblings because of such compassion she showed her poorer comrades. She'd go out with full pockets, wishing for some relaxing shopping, and come back with all her rubles gone but her heart contented.

Most of the time she just liked watching the people going about their everyday business. When she felt like contemplating or thinking, she'd completely cover her face in a scarf and high jacket, so she wouldn't be constantly stopped by people who recognized her. Today was one of those days. There were no concerts or recitals to visit, and staying locked up in her massive but boring house reading or attending to guests. She thought it odd how much her city comrades bustled, working on this and that, going here or there, in constant motion; while the comrades visiting her house were easygoing and lackadaisical.

She hummed Tchaikovsky's Romance in F minor with a bounce in her step, thinking vividly back when she first heard it. She was only twelve, Ivan was seven, and Natalya wasn't even born. Her dear little brother was fidgeting for her attention, but it was all focused on the music. Yekaterina found the memory comforting and thought about it for a long while.

While she thought of her family, a nasty reminder came to her. Her father was becoming increasingly strict on her street walks, with or without Ivan, because she was past "marrying age". This wasn't ancient times, she didn't _have_ to get married, but Yekaterina embraced the idea of being a mother. It'd honor her country even more, especially if she gave birth to several healthy little ones. She just wished her father would let her go out and meet men, but that was completely out of the question. He was pressuring her to marry one of his many captains, or better, one of his handfuls of sergeants. They all would be more than happy to make her their wife. Yekaterina didn't not understand this, as she was very modest of her pretty face and curvy figure.

There were a few men her father suggested she truly did like, some she spoke to often. They were friends or fellow comrades, not lovers and husbands. She didn't have to worry about spousal abuse, because her father and brother wouldn't tolerate it. But to divorce meant to give up the children, and Yekaterina was always afraid of losing what she wanted most.

She contemplated all of this as she returned home, and she instantly regretted staying out so long. Her father and Ivan were back from the meeting.

"There you are!" He exclaimed, using a dramatic tone he always adopted when upset. "You worry your mother's shoes off. And why'd you run off this time?"

"I didn't run," Yekaterina pouted childishly, "I was just walking."

"I've told you not to, not without Ivan! And even then, Katyusha, you shouldn't be associating with our outside comrades."

"Oh, papa, there's no difference between 'outside' comrades and us," Yekaterina began sniffling, she hated when he was upset. Ivan defended her, stating calmly, "She never goes far, papa. And the servants say she was only gone for half an hour."

It was much longer than that. General Braginski ignored his son, looking straight at Yekaterina. "I was lenient with your outings before. You are going to be a married woman, Yekaterina, and you must stop this. People will talk, you're reputation will be ruined. I don't want that for you."

She wanted to argue that she didn't care for her reputation, and it was fine anyway, but the words 'married woman' caught her off guard. "I-I am not even engaged-!"

"You are now." Was his curt reply.

Yekaterina's mouth fell open, her eyelids watered, her face in ultimate disbelief. Had she heard that right? She looked right into her father's eyes and saw ultimate seriousness. Desperate, she looked at Ivan. He had bowed his head and stared at his shoes.

"Y-You can't do that," Yekaterina's voice wobbled like jelly. She didn't want to know who the man was, she didn't care, and all she knew was her once generous father had betrayed her.

"I can, I have, and you are set to be married in exactly six months."

Six months! In six months she'd have a lavish wedding and spend the rest of her life with someone whose name she didn't even know. It was unfair and wrong and sick and Yekaterina was so shocked and upset she simply fell to the floor, covered her face with her mitten hands and cried.

She didn't know if her father pitied her or left or glared, because she couldn't hear anything but her own shaking voice echoing off the walls of their massive home. At one point, Ivan wrapped his arms around her, and she guessed her father left then because he never allowed his son to be affectionate with his sisters. He stroked her hair like she did when she was comforting him. He felt very awkward and confused, because his Katyusha cried often, but never with this much intensity. Nevertheless, just the gesture of her brother feeling sorry for her made Yekaterina feel better and she cried into his chest until her head hurt and she couldn't get any more tears out.

Despite her daughter's slow-rising fame, her mother always put Regina to work when she wasn't practicing. It was often run-and-fetch sort of chores, whether she be going to the store for groceries or running all the way to Eduard's clinic because he forgot something at home. She didn't mind in the least bit, because she had a surprising amount of endurance when it came to walking long distances and it was better than breaking the dishes and getting scolded.

Today Regina was put to the task of buying some tools for her father, because he was a carpenter and his boss rarely provided them with materials. It was a heavy blow to her family's finances, but no one seemed to complain of money as long as there was work to do be done.

With a thick brown hemp bag around her shoulders, Regina was loathing having to carry the heavy supplies all the way from the general store to the construction site on the other side of town. At least Eduard's clinic was at the halfway point so she could go in and rest for a few minutes.

She walked into the dingy shop, not generating much attention because she was there so often. She went straight to the hardware section and began getting several boxes of nails, a hammer and to her mortification a huge shovel that was almost her size.

The little Latvian stumbled to the register and put the items on the counter, with difficulty, since she was so short and she found that almost all the men here were a good foot and a half taller. It took them a second to notice her, and even when they did, they kept talking about something they heard on the radio. The general store owner had bought a massive radio that bellowed clearly around the whole store, so all the men of the village often stopped by to hear news because their radios were irritating because of all the static that interrupted the news feeds.

News was always interesting because she got to hear of all the amazing scientific achievements or technological milestones Russia was making. It really was fascinating, hearing of visiting the moon or designing some new car. Of course, she'd never seen these technologies, but she figured it was because this was a tiny little town in the middle of no where. But sometimes the news wasn't so great, because it made her feel bad for all the other countries that were doing poorly, especially America, which she heard about often as being the worst place to go.

So that's why even though all her items had been rung up and the cashier was waiting for her to pay, her attention was brought to the bulky device as it started talking about events in Leningrad. She heard it was just as beautiful as Moscow, and wondered what it would be like to go.

"…And in six months, our beautiful comrade Yekaterina Braginskaya will be happily married to comrade General…"

"Braginskaya-!" Regina shouted the second she heard the name, causing several eyes to look in her direction. She blushed terribly, looking down.

"So you're a fan?" The cashier chuckled as she shakily handed him the money.

"D-d-da, I-I've m-met her…Once…" Regina's voice got quieter as she talked and her shaking got worse. Oh, why'd she have to exclaim so loud?

"Oh, that's right, when you were in Moscow."

"D-da, th-thank you." The second the last box was in her bag she sped out, her face redder than the thick maroon skirt she wore. It really wasn't a big deal, but she always got flustered when unwanted attention was paid to her.

An effective way to keep her mind off her outburst was thinking of the eldest Braginskaya sister. She wondered about the woman's husband, and found it odd he wasn't there at the concert with her. Maybe he was busy, but Regina had no idea what 'general' meant other than a very important rank in the military, so she wouldn't know his schedule.

Regina imagined how nice it would be having a huge wedding, with an expensive and beautiful dress and jewelry like the ones she wore at the concert, except they'd be bigger. And she knew Miss Braginskaya would have all sorts of delicious food but mostly desserts (she seemed like someone with a sweet tooth) and have an amazing handsome husband and live in his giant house with his family instead of her giant house with her family. She wasn't well-traveled, but she'd always heard stories of the glorious marriages of officers in Moscow.

That little daydream was much better than thinking about her own wedding, which she knew wouldn't be nearly extravagant with her mother's old wedding dress that had noticeable holes in it from moths. And the only jewelry would be the most expensive item her mother owned- a gold chain with a sizable ruby in the shape of a heart. The food would be what her mother normally cooked, only with more spices and in larger quantity- if the work was good that year. And as hard as she tried to imagine it, she didn't see herself with a handsome military man.

It was harsh truth that Regina didn't mind. She wasn't the type to want for material things, but she was so content with imagining Miss Braginskaya's fairytale wedding that she completely forgot to stop by her brother's clinic and almost passed her father's construction site.

If only Regina's fantasy was Yekaterina's reality. No more than a week later, she was sitting in a cold store for her dress fitting. Her parents had already picked out the wedding dress! It was like they planned this for years behind her back. She was normally very forgiving, but Yekaterina couldn't talk to her mother or even look at her father in these past few days. Although she loved her brother, she wasn't very comforted when he offered to go along. She wondered if he knew about this too.

They had been waiting in tense silence for several minutes while the tailor went to fetch the finished dress. Yekaterina hadn't even seen it, and she had a feeling she wouldn't like it. She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief that had been glued to her hand since she first heard news of her engagement. She sniffled audibly as the tailor said, "Just a minute, I've just got to find the matching shoes!"

It hurt Ivan that his favorite sister was so heartbroken and he had a hand in making her that way. When their father told him the plans, of course he objected. But what good would that do? At least he convinced his father to pick comrade General Chazov. Chazov was an idiot, a complete puppet to the nearest higher-ranked man, but he was good looking and didn't have a single bone of true malicious intent. That was better than his father's first choice, comrade General Gorban, who was a good friend of their family but a drinker and gambler. He'd do nothing but make Yekaterina's life miserable.

Ivan wanted to tell his sister all this, that he saved her from a horrible person, but her disposition would only worsen if she heard her father seriously considered a fat old man like Gorban. And she didn't like comrade Chazov, despite his generous compliments to her whenever he visited.

The tailor came back and Yekaterina's hunch was right. She didn't like a thing about the dress, especially since it was strapless, and she was very self-conscious about her large bust and not-so-skinny figure. How was she supposed to fit into it?

The tailor was very awkward and confused when Yekaterina burst into hysterical tears a second later. Ivan wasn't surprised, but it deepened his own sadness, and he took her hand in attempt to console her, and that didn't get him anywhere.

He didn't feel any better with himself later that night, when he was in his office. He was supposed to be working, but his sister's pouting on the car ride home had really blown all of his work ethic for that day. Again, he had that feeling of guilt that was only driving itself deeper in his gut.

Promptly, Ivan got out the large bottle of vodka he kept in one of his desk drawers and poured himself a glass. He was never good at dealing with his problems without any kind of aid. After a good few drinks, he had finally begun feeling a kind of buzz, and the guilt and anger finally began receding. Except, Yekaterina chose to walk in that very moment.

He didn't even have time to hide the bottle, which really wasn't a big deal; Yekaterina had seen him drink plenty of times. That didn't mean he wanted her to. "I'm sorry, are you busy?" She wiped her eyes.

Not at all, he didn't even have paperwork out. "Nyet, I'm available. What's wrong?"

"I-I just wanted to ask a quick favor, you don't have to do it,"

"Anything." And he meant that. No one could refuse Yekaterina, especially when her eyes were puffy from all the wiping and crying and she couldn't even keep her voice steady.

"W-well, you know, papa won't let me out for concerts anymore…"

Ouch, way to drive the dagger in deeper. The guilt just resurfaced all over again; Ivan would need a few more drinks just to get to sleep tonight.

"And, I just wanted to know if it was possible, at least… Do you think we could hire so musicians? Just for a few hours a day, so I can listen?"

Ivan paused, well, that was a great idea. Father wouldn't fuss over her leaving the house and she'd have her beloved music. He smiled, a little wider than normal, thanks to the alcohol. "Well, I could certainly have that arranged, Katyusha. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Her face brightened visibly. "Oh, da, I do!" She produced a crumpled piece of paper from her sleeve. She placed it on his desk. "Of course, you don't have to hire them all at once, I'm fine with just one player per day…"

"You can't have a concert with one person," He said, looking over the list of the large variety of musicians. Yekaterina grinned and wiped her eyes a little more, even if the tears at temporarily stopped. "W-well, yes, I suppose your right. But I'm fine with anybody."

Ivan would have it arranged so everybody on her list would come at least once a day, he'd see to it, even if he had to put a gun to their heads himself. But they'd probably go willingly with the promises of money anyway. Yekaterina thanked him profusely and went around his desk to give him a hug and kiss.

She was just about to leave a very happy brother in his office, but she stopped suddenly. "O-oh, wait, there's somebody I forgot."

"Da?" Ivan got a pen to scribble the name down.

"I-I'd like to hear that pretty violinist again. The small one, Regina Galantaya."

* * *

If you were reading this and wondering what the fudge Yekaterina had to do with anything, well, now you know! :D Btw, she's an important character, so don't completely tune her out~

~ I have someone to thank! ~

Kyuutchi: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR IDEA. Seriously, in that single message that just helped me plan out the entire fic XD Hot cocoa with whipped cream, milk, extra sugar, marshmallows and hersheys kisses is yours! And for your lovely first review CC:

Edit: Edited a few problems in this chapter. As always, send an email/PM/review if you have any ideas, historical info or concrit~!


	3. Chapter 3

Regina Galantaya was proving very difficult to track down.

Ivan knew she wasn't in Leningrad, so he tried all over Moscow. The only trace he found of her were the workers at the recital, who only knew she came from a village several miles away. That was not only annoyingly vague, but troublesome for the his underlings who were sent to fetch her. Russia was vast and despite modernization, several farming villages were quite separate from their city counterparts. It'd take months, and Yekaterina was getting more and more desolate as the wedding day loomed on the calendar.

To add more burden to his nerves, Natalya had unwound again. Her mother brushed off his little sister's deranged behavior and blamed it on anything convenient. Stress, people (purposely or innocently) setting her off, waking up on the wrong side of the bed, whatever helped. Their mother refused anything was wrong with her favorite child, even if she was suspiciously absent whenever Natalya went off on one of her episodes.

His young sister had always been unstable, since she was a small child. Their parents played an intense tug-of-war, with their mother wanting Natalya to stay home and their father wishing for her to be in an institution. The latter insisted her bad health would be a scandal and a shame to their fellow comrades. He said the government-funded mental hospitals would care for her every need, but their family knew otherwise.

Whenever Natalya had an 'episode', as everyone liked to say, no guests were allowed. Ivan would be forced to go into his sister's room, the one up in the attic, with its torn wallpaper and broken furniture she destroyed in her crazed stupor. He'd always been fearful of his sister- no, terrified, since her first episode when she was four. He was twelve at the time, and he remembered vividly how she screamed. Not a child screaming, like a temper tantrum, but wild screeching. She'd spew horrible things, things a little girl shouldn't speak or even know of. She wanted to kill their parents, kill everyone in the house. She even turned the knife she got from the kitchen on Yekaterina, who was only trying to hug her and calm her.

He remembered the blood staining his sister's white dress, and how she cried out but still held tight on Natalya, who was thrashing like something possessed her. He remembered his mother just standing in shock as her youngest daughter cut her oldest again, this time deeper, spreading that eerie shade of red on both their nightgowns.

He shouted something at Natalya, he couldn't recall what, but it made her stop her third attack and look up. He ran at his sisters, pulling Natalya by her chubby arms and holding her so hard she dropped the knife. He wanted to cry because Yekaterina's nightgown was dripping, and his mother was screaming louder than Natalya was, and servants were rushing in and running around them. Somehow, he stayed quiet, and looked his sister right in the eye.

"You don't ever hurt family Nataha. Family is all you have. Without them, you are nothing."

Ivan was big for his age; he shook her hard when he was done. He didn't mean to, and he was so sure she'd pick the knife up and attack him. Instead, she stared right at him, her very expressionless blue eyes boring into his soft violet ones. He was fearful, glancing from the knife to her stained hands.

Natalya did something he'd never seen her do since that night, she cried.

Her normal childish voice returned and she cried typical baby tears as she covered her face. Ivan was too taken aback to bother to comfort her, so he just stood awkwardly, letting go of her arms.

Yekaterina had been taken away. Her mother ran past him, her nightgown softly rubbing against his cheek. Their mother scooped the sobbing Natalya in her arms, the two cried together. Ivan remembered looking down at his own red hands and clothes. He remembered feeling very cold...

Ivan didn't recall anything after that, so he wondered if he fainted or simply blocked the rest out. He was sitting at his desk now, contemplating that night. Everyone was so proud, claiming he saved Yekaterina, who was hospitalized from her wounds. He didn't like the idea of saving one sister from another, so he didn't agree their calling him a 'hero'. The next day, Natalya didn't seem to realize what she had done. She knew it was bad, because everyone was avoiding her and looking at her coldly. Without saying anything, they made her feel shamed, and she became afraid and depressed, unable to understand the isolation. She kept away from everyone for several months.

Natalya had many episodes after that, and for some reason Ivan was always the one calming her down. No one else could, not even loving Yekaterina. The forgiving girl yearned to do something, but she was understandably afraid. While Ivan wanted nothing more than to stop his Natalya's screaming, he hated being the one to do it. It was so strange and scary, walking into that room, with blood splattered on the walls (usually her own, or anybody who was stupid enough to get close). Whatever Natalya was wearing would be ruined, because she'd rip it some way or another. She'd pull out her hair too, or try to rip her nails, or some other self-inflicting insane thing.

It'd only take three or five minutes and she'd calm down. Whenever he talked, she hooked onto every word he said, as if her mind was coming out of a deep sleep. He'd just tell her to stop, basically, to think about the stress she was causing the family, namely Yekaterina and their mother. Natalaya would stop whatever mess she was doing and just stare mindlessly until he was finished. Often, she didn't say anything back. He liked it when she would just nod, take his hand and go to her room where their mother would cry and and their servants would clean her up.

Sometimes she talked to him. That was the worst. Ivan believed he was the only one who knew just how deep her sickness was. She described evil things coming to her and speaking horribly.

Natalya said she'd see 'Them', they had no other name. First they'd come in her sleep and turn her dreams into horrible nightmares. Them found their way into the real world, where they crawled on the walls and floors and whispered to her. Eventually those whispers became shouts and gradually screeches. If she did what they said, they'd stop, if only for a moment. And she was so sick of Them, she'd do anything for tat moment of relief. It made Ivan's heart hurt that his sister was aware of her own condition, and she always sounded so pitiful when she'd describe it. She wouldn't cry; just quiver like a cold animal.

Today he had to go into that room and see his beautiful sister with whatever weapon Them told her to wield. She never hurt him, but he was secretly petrified she would. Years of intense military training and camps were nothing like this, not when he knew the unpredictability of 'Them'.

She was breathing hard; her throat must have hurt from all that screaming. He sat calmly in the stool in the corner, his chair, the one she never destroyed. His heart was racing uncomfortably, it got worse when she slowly turning in his direction. She was on the floor, her pale legs and arms bruised and beaten. Natalya had a large bedpost in her thin hand, swinging it around carelessly, often hitting herself without realizing it. Despite her hazy and spinning vision, she always knew when he came in.

"Nataha, it's time to stop."

She murmured something and looked away.

"You worry mama when you do this. Papa will put you in an institution."

Natalya gritted her teeth. She spat hateful things about their father in the voice she always used when she was under Them's influence.

"You don't want to go there, little Nataha. They'll lock you in a cell, like a prisoner. Our government does not care for prisoners."

Her gritting became louder and she dropped the bedpost. Her body was having difficulty between swaying like a drunkard or twitching and fidgeting like a seizure patient.

Ivan was going to continue, but stopped, mentally scolding himself for speaking so plainly. These were things he told her when he didn't want to deal with her, and she looked worse than usual.

"Are they here Nataha? Them?"

She snapped her head up at him, and he felt himself jump. His fear subsided when her crazed look was traded for a very scared expression, her eyes wide. "Da. Da, Them is here now."

"Where?"

"On the walls," She tried to suppress a shudder. "Climbing on the ceiling, watching me."

"Right now?" He glanced at the ceiling, since she was staring so intently at it. Of course, nothing was up there except the lights, but she was following something with her eyes. She looked down again, at herself, as if just realizing she had wounds.

"We should get those looked at," Ivan stood up, figuring it was over now.

Natalya was silent, still looking at the ground, tracing an invisible monster that only plagued her. Ivan stepped to her, crouching down. "Nataha, let's go to your room." He took her hand.

That always made her move, or at least look at him. But she did either and Ivan felt panic circling in his gut. What if she lashed out again?

She stared at her brother's hand, examining her thin fingers in his bulky palm. His fingers were much fatter than hers, but her clothes always hung off her frame. "Vanya, I think I need to go away."

Ivan's mouth went dry at his sister's sorrowful voice. She squeezed his hand, "I can't … Put everyone through this… them is always, always getting louder…"

Although he'd always wanted her in a facility, this time he protested, echoing his mother exactly. "Nyet, Nataha! You just need rest, you've been so worried about Katyusha, and it's just stress…"

"It's not stress!" Her voice raised, her face twisted in a sad mix of pain and frustration. "It won't stop Vanya! I hate it!"

"They'll just give you drugs!" He raised his voice too, the mimicking maternal tone completely gone. "Give you so much; you'll be completely thoughtless…"

"I don't want thoughts," Natalya said bitterly. "These thoughts haven't done anything for me."

He swallowed, and that hurt more than it should. He squeezed her hand back, wanting to comfort her in some form, to say she was fine and normal. Ivan was about to spout out these senseless excuses, but he felt his hand get wet. Natalya was crying.

"I want to be admitted today, if I can."

That was several hours ago, this morning. It was late in the afternoon now.

Together, Natalya and Ivan walked down the stairs, which was unusual because he normally took her to her room without anyone seeing. With her ripped nightgown and bruised arms, she was seen by all the servants.

They went straight to their father's room, where he was making plans. He was extremely surprised to see Natalya in this state; he never bothered with her before or after her incidents. Ivan tried to speak. "S-she wants to… She'd like to…"

"I want to go away." Natalya said simply, but she was squeezing his hand so hard his hand was prickling from the blood flow being cut off.

Their father was more than happy to comply; it was as if he was just waiting for this day. In less than two hours, Natalya was cleaned up, her things packed. He had already picked out a hospital for her. Their mother was in hysterics, but she was told to shut up. Ivan tried to tell her she could visit Natalya everyday, but this went through deaf ears. She was enraged.

"You of all people!" She screamed at him. "Throwing your own sister in a prison!"

Yekaterina heard all of this, and he expected her to hate him too. Of course, she wasn't like that. Her look was so understanding and kind, he didn't think he deserved it. She soothed her mother, stroking her hand, insisting they'd go everyday to check up on her. This time, mama listened, but she still sent deathly glares his way. It was much worse for their father, who she turned on and screeched,

"You picked a place out of Leningrad! Some disgusting, small city where the doctors know nothing of medicine! You threw her in a hole full of dirty, ignorant quacks!"

"You're more than welcome to join her," He retorted.

Ivan was finding it difficult to focus on tracking down a stupid violinist when his mind was drifting to Natalya, and her current condition. He wondered if they'd knock her out the second she got there, if they'd even bother to treat her right. She was from the Braginski family, but that might not matter if she were so far away from home.

His heart twisted in discomfort, more guilt. Even if Natalya requested it, he felt responsible. He could've brushed her off, told her to just go to her room and relax. But she'd have gone straight to their father anyway.

He set aside his paperwork and took the bottle of vodka from under his desk. He drank half without realizing it, his thoughts mixing and mudding together like a mosaic. Ivan figured if he drunk enough, he'd not only be comfortably numb, but he'd pass out so he wouldn't have to see his mother in the hall and see her hurt stare. Or his father and have him congratulate him for finally convincing to put Natalya away. Both were hell compared to sleeping on his desk in his military uniform and a piercing headache in the morning.

Regina scrubbed her neck quickly, afterwards dunking the small rag in the bucket of water to get all the soap out. She had woken up late and her mother was calling from the kitchen. If she didn't hurry she'd miss breakfast, and Regina couldn't miss a meal without feeling terribly faint.

She finished tying her ribbon as she came down the stairs. Her mother tsk'd, "Well, that took you most of the morning."

"I-I'm sorry," Regina said sheepishly, taking her seat by Eduard. She piled food on her plate as her parents continued whatever conversation they had before. Regina listened, even if she wasn't sure what they were talking about.

She was interrupted when Eduard gave her a suspicious look. "Are you sure you washed completely?"

Regina wanted to scoff. "Y-yes, of course…"

"Did you boil the water first?"

"W-well, no…"

Eduard sighed. "Haven't I told you to do that? You might as well be rubbing germs all over yourself.

As much as she loved her brother, he was a bit of a neat freak, to the point when he tended to drive their tidy mother up a wall.

"Boiling water would have to cool off, and then it'd take even longer for her to get ready." Their mother shook her head.

"Who knows what sort of disease is in those rusty pipes!"

"She's still breathing, isn't she? Unless you're willing to boil the water yourself…"

"I might as well, since both of you are just as bad." Eduard pointed his fork at his parents, and Regina giggled at how flustered he was getting. He was always lightly scolding the family on things like that, but there was only so much the poor family could do about hygiene.

While her mother washed the dishes, Regina gathered her textbooks, Eduard was readying for work and their father had already left for the construction site. Regina had just put on her shoulder bag and grabbed the door knob when a loud knocking sent her jumping nearly two feet back.

Both her mother and Eduard had curious looks. "Well, open it then," She said, wiping her hands hastily on her apron.

Regina hesitated for a moment, but she put down her bag and did as she was told. She was met with a site that gave her whole body shivers. Eduard was right behind her, and seemed equally bothered, but didn't show it with such obviousness.

They were a pair of a very simply dressed man and woman. The man was clearly older, with a black suite and a leather jacket over that. The woman wore a white dress with tall heels and a similar leather jacket. Her mother hurriedly invited them in, just as anxious as her children. She knew they were not government officials, but they were dressed too nice to be from the village.

She barely got out a 'May I help you?' when the woman spoke. "Is this the Galante residence?"

"Yes, my husband is at work, if this is about him…"

"It's not, do not worry," The man was looking about the house, unlike the woman, who stared forward. "This is about Regina Galante."

Regina flinched and her brother tried to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but that was difficult, what with her shaking. "I-I-I'm R-R-Regina…"

The woman turned to her and gave a stiff smile. "Oh, thank goodness. This search has been very trying."

"Search?" Her mother walked directly in front of the woman, ruining her view of Regina. "Do you want her to play somewhere?"

"Well, yes, in a way." The man took the liberty to sit on the largest chair, the one their father usually relaxed in. "Our dearest comrade, Colonel Ivan Braginski, would be grateful if you came immediately to his house in Leningrad to play."

The family's mouths must've dropped simultaneously because the man let out a small titter. "Right this minute, of course. We'd like her to start packing so that she may get there as soon as possible."

Regina's head was reeling, but she spoke weakly, "I-I-I have school…"

"You're nearly finished with school." The woman responded sharply.

Her mother was firmer, her words having a lining of anger. "Her duty to her country is her education. The weekend will be a much more convenient time…"

"Her duty is also to serve the government, and that is who Comrade Colonel Braginski is," The woman's tone became more biting and her hawk-like eyes narrowed. "We have a hand written letter from him, requesting her presence. His sister, Yekaterina Braginskaya, wishes for a live performance."

Eduard protested before his mother could, his face glowing from anger. "You can't expect us to just hand her over to people we hardly know!"

The man unbuttoned his jacket, expecting a drawn-out argument, so he figured he might as well be comfortable. "The Braginski family is extremely prestigious and well-known among the populace of our wonderful Soviet Union," His tone was similar to that of a mother speaking to a child. "She will be in safe, comfortable hands."

"This is not optional." The woman added with severity, wanting to leave the nasty shack as soon as possible.

Her words caused a heavy weight to fall upon the family. Regina took to crying softly, trying to look at the woman, but her courage was failing her. "Pl-please, c-can't I have j-just a week…"

"No."

"How long will she be staying?" Her mother insisted, closed to tears herself.

"As long as Miss Braginskaya wishes."

'Forever' would be synonymous with that. Regina looked up to the eldest Miss Braginskaya, she really did, but she couldn't comprehend leaving her village for a mansion in a city she'd never been to. Her mother held and cried with her, but Eduard refused to give up with tears. He grew angrier, his teeth audibly grinding.

"And you believe you have the authority to just take her from her family!"

The woman's lips tightened to a line, and Regina felt her mother's arms wrap around her tighter. She heard her heart flutter painfully, and Eduard seemed to realize what he said, because he stepped back and looked away.

The man was the only one who didn't seem bothered. "We do, boy; our comrade's authority is leagues away from yours." He stood, buttoning his jacket back up, speaking calmly. "She will be given an hour to pack. We need to make haste; we don't want to travel at night with these temperatures."

That seemed to finalize the deal. Her mother let out a whimpering cry, squeezing Regina in a strong hold. It was returned, and the two fell to the floor in a heap. Eduard stood his face completely blank and pale. He had detached himself completely until their mother sobbed, "Don't stand there! Get your father!"

That took him out of his trance, and he ran outside while the servants returned to their car, ignoring the entire scene.

An hour dragged painfully by, with her mother finally getting up and going upstairs. Regina's shaking was subdued by her hold, and with it gone she felt herself quaking to her bones. All she could do was make blubbering sounds when her mother set down their largest suitcase.

She spoke evenly, dabbing her eyes generously. "I-I packed most of your clothes… A blanket, y-your practice books… Even if you don't need them… Some paper and pens for writing, please do it often…"

Regina couldn't utter a thing, not with her heart ripping in two like this. It was made worse when her father and brother came home, both sweating despite the cold, evidence they ran the entire way. Her mother choked out a fresh sob right there, and before she realized it the whole family was on the floor shedding tears.

The servants came in the second the hour was up. The man took her suitcase, not bothering to hide his surprise at its light weight. Her mother bundled her in a coat and a thick white scarf, the expensive one given to them by their great-grandmother that was only used for special occasions. Her parents showered her with kisses, while her brother gave her the longest and most somber hug she'd ever have in her life.

The windows of the large car were covered in frost, so she doubted her family would see if she waved. Regina didn't want to anyway; this wasn't a grand vacation she'd be returning from. She felt herself regretting ever being so nice to Miss Braginski, but how could she foresee being torn from her family? How could that nice, plump woman even think of such a thing?

Maybe she wasn't nice at all. Regina's heart felt sore at the thought. She swallowed, creating new tears to spring to her already glassy and red eyes. She didn't bother to dab or wipe them away, she felt too miserable.

The large servant man took notice. "Are you just going to mope about the house the whole time?"

Regina felt that statement didn't need a response, but she couldn't help rubbing her face with her hands.

"In my defense, it's not like we have a choice in retrieving you."

You could've said you didn't find me, and left us alone. Regina thought, and an unfamiliar feeling of bitterness took hold of her. She was never spiteful towards anyone, by nature she was a caring and forgiving person. Forgiveness was something she was sure she'd never show this man.

"My name is Boris Demidov; I've been with the family since the 30s."

She made it clear she wasn't going to make conversation by turning her body completely to the window and staring out at it. This didn't stop the old man, who kept talking about the Braginski manor and Leningrad. He talked for some time, only stopping when Regina put her suitcase between them.

He paused, and then outright laughed. "Well, you don't have to like me, but I'd appreciate if you showed the family more respect."

How could you respect kidnappers? That's basically what had just happened, Regina decided. She was kidnapped by the very family she had admired so highly.

* * *

THE ANGST BEGINS

Poor Regina, she's the heroine and she's getting shoved at the end of every chapter XD This one was sort of unintentionally centered around Natalya... And then not... IDK, I just really wanted to put her story in here before I shipped her to the funny farm. Don't worry, she'll return O:

But in all seriousness, in this story she suffers from schizophernia. In the 60s, it didn't matter what country you were in, any person with a mental health problem would be thrown in a facility. I wanted to make a change from the typical "brother-I'm-crazy-and-obsessed-with-you" persona everyone tacks on her.

So! Thank you for reading, I'm especially happy since I'm posting this from Puerto Rico~~ XD

O YA EXPECT SOME LIKE TTLY AWESOME POLAND ACTION NEXT CHAPTER

**Edit: **Fixed some grammar mistakes and added a little bit so it flows better with the rest of the story. As always, email or PM me with your ideas and suggetions! Spasibo!


	4. Chapter 4

A black muscle car pulled into the winding driveway of the Braginski manor, carefully snaking over the ice. Regina vaguely wondered if this was how convicts felt on their way to a cell. It was like rocks were just piling up in her stomach, one right after the other, suppressing her tears but making her nauseous. It had been a long trip in such a tightly-packed car.

The car stopped slowly, the tires sliding just a little from the snow covering them. Boris got out first, opening the door for Regina in a very gentlemanly manner. The gesture went unnoticed as she shakily climbed out, her little black shoes making a mushy sound as she stepped into slippery mix of old snow and dirt.

Her suitcase was in the hands of the woman, who climbed up the large front steps of the mansion. She didn't even have to knock once; the oak double doors were quickly opened.

Regina lingered behind, staring mindlessly, until Boris bumped against her hard with his shoulder, nearly causing her to lose her footing on the sodden pavement. The older man wore cracked grin as he glanced towards the door. "Let's hurry."

She wanted to say she was perfectly content with staying in the bitter snow until the tears became ice cubes on her eyelids and her hands turned black, but Regina silently followed. The house was massive, beautiful and clearly decades old. She felt intimidated by its looming shadow and dark windows; she'd never seen such a … desolate place. Regina wondered how many members the Braginski family had, to own such a big house.

The girl was hardly a few steps into the house and she was already amazed. The hallway was magnificent enough- clear pearly tiles, a brilliant chandelier with real candles instead of light bulbs. A thick crimson rug with a gold tassel trim was at the very end of the hallway, where a spiraling staircase that was the brightest shade of white she'd ever seen. Large paintings were tastefully placed here and there, not too gaudy but not too plain. Most of them were portraits of stoic-faced soldiers, whom she assumed to be relatives. It was the utmost opposite of the small and humble living area her family had.

Regina couldn't do anything but stumble after the general direction of the woman and Boris. The Latvian didn't want to follow him down the hall, even if he was beckoning her with impatience. Timidly, she began trailed behind him, consciously looking at her scruffy shoes and checking behind her to see if she was tracking dirt.

This obsessive checking led to her being several feet behind Boris, irritating him as he waited at the top of the stairs.

She blushed as she realized he'd been waiting for several minutes. "I-I'm sorry, i-it's just… very big…" She felt plain and stupid. It was a different world.

His bothered expression left, for only a moment. "You really are a village girl."

She tried to brush off his comment and continued following him, surprised that the fine-looking art and decor was maintained in all parts of the house. She could never imagine affording even the smallest of the sculptures or the dullest of the rugs- rather, she didn't know such things existed. And it was then she realized just how wealthy the Braginskis were, and how truly impossible it would be to escape their grasp. The stones in her stomach began feeling heavier.

Boris led her to another set of double doors, smaller than the front entrance and made of some sort of dark, molding wood. It was engraved to show a scene of a grassy field, with sunflowers and trees swaying in the wind. The peaceful scene was deeply contrasted with the threatening two-headed eagles on the border of the doors.

For a terrible moment, Regina thought it was Miss Braginskaya's room. She didn't know what she'd say to the nice woman.

With some difficulty, Boris pushed opened the thick doors, and Regina's stomach instantly shriveled inside itself. It was worse than Miss Braginskaya's room: Yes, she was there, but so was her brother. And two very unkind-faced older parents, or at least, that's who she supposed they were. The mother had her children's lovely eyes and blonde hair, but the father had many of Ivan's facial features.

Boris gave a respectful bow of the head and gave her suitcase to a young servant that was already in the room. "Take this to her room."

She temporarily ignored the family's steady gaze and whispered, "M-my…?"

Boris coughed loudly, the noise echoing off the walls. "Comrade Braginski and his mother, Comrade Braginskaya, I've brought Regina Galantaya, the one you requested."

Regina's stomach nausea went from heavy rocks to rough churning. She couldn't make eye contact with a single one of them. She looked down at her feet, but her scuffed shoes and old dress only made her confidence worse. Her voice shook as she attempted to speak. "I-I-I… I'm glad to… " She trailed off in silent mumbles.

Mrs. Braginskaya raised her eyebrows, attempting to decide if Regina was an eyesore or an interesting visitor. Ivan's triumphant expression glowed as his sister bolted from her seat. She went right for Regina, almost tripping over her dress.

"Oh, oh! You really brought her, brother-! And you really came!" She wrapped her arms around Regina, and no better position could emphasize their height and shape difference. Regina was taken aback from the gesture, so she couldn't think of a response. It didn't matter- Yekaterina was chattering.

"I'm so glad, Miss Galantaya, so glad! I haven't been able to… I mean, I haven't had time- to listen to music. And _you're_ really here, to play for me, just like little Vanya said-!"

"Katyusha, let her sit with us," Her mother gave a fake chuckle and waved her hand airily. Boris quickly drew up a chair by Yekaterina.

"Oh, da, I'm so sorry Miss Galantaya! Have tea with us." Yekaterina took Regina's shoulder and just about pulled her to the little table. Regina mimicked the taller woman's graceful way of sitting, and she realized with horror that she didn't have the slightest clue of table manners other than 'no elbows' and 'please, thank you'.

Yekaterina kept on talking as Boris poured Regina hot tea. "Re- Miss Galantaya, you're probably tired. You don't have to come to dinner, if you want…"

"Manners, Yekaterina," Mrs. Braginskaya said sharply, and Regina saw Yekaterina visibly flinch. "Of course she'll join us. She's a guest." The mother's last few words sounded like she had a sour taste on her tongue. Regina felt herself shrinking under the woman's gaze, Ivan's great stature right next to her and the father's impassive gaze.

"Da, sorry mat- but Miss Galantaya, what sort of foods do you like?"

"I-I… Well, I-I like any sort…" Regina flushed at the simple question, imagining the dinner to mirror their elaborate house- nothing she was used to. And it was stinging reminder she was leaving her family behind. She looked down at her tea, trying to ignore its bizarre smell and the lump in her throat.

Yekaterina picked up on Regina's sudden shift in mood and had a chance inquire on it, since her mother decided to bring up the most boring but most frequently used topic in their household: The war. Yekaterina didn't consider it a serious conversation, more her parents just complaining bitterly about the US and Ivan making the occasional comment. She felt out of the loop; what little she knew of politics came from what she heard on the village radio.

"Miss Galantaya," Yekaterina spoke softly, sipping at her tea. "I'm really so glad you're here, this place is so dreary."

The young Latvian believed that; now as she looked around, the décor went from grand to just lifeless. Everything was colored dirty pastel and showing age. She hoped it was just this room that was like this. The room was also terribly cold, due to the massive windows around them. Snow was piling up on the panes and Regina shivered despite herself.

"Are you cold?" Yekaterina asked, already removing her own shawl. Regina shook her head quickly but the heavy cloth was wrapped around her shaking frame.

"Th-thank you, M-Miss Br-Braginskaya…"

Yekaterina smiled warmly and said, "Drink your tea, before it cools."

Regina nodded slowly and drowned out the conversation of the family. Her mind was swirling with questions for Yekaterina. Why did the girl sound so grateful, so surprised she was here? Didn't she know Regina was her prisoner? Then she remembered: 'You really brought her, brother'. It was his idea. But why keep her permanently? Did Miss Braginskaya love music so much she insisted on having a personal violinist at home? Did they bring other musicians, a whole orchestra? Why couldn't she have hired musicians of the state? Why her, a village girl with a family?

Her chest ached at the idea of playing all day, everyday. She loved her violin, but she couldn't play it for her whole existence, especially not when she felt like this.

Regina thought she was at that table for hours. She was corrected when Lady Braginskaya put down her cup and curtly said, "Oh, I need to meet with the ladies at five. Will dinner be ready by six?"

"Da, Comrade Braginskaya." Boris swiped up her cup. General Braginski took that tea time was over, and quickly stood up. He turned to his son, who was just as eager to leave, "We have plans to go over. Those idiots changed them again."

Only Yekaterina seemed genuinely upset with the tea party dispersing, but she didn't announce any plans. She turned to Regina, wanting to show the guest around the house, and her mother quickly took notice.

"Katyusha, come with me. Miss Petrowaya wants to give you some of her dresses."

Yekaterina made a face, just for a second. "Da, mat." She gave Regina a pitiful look.

The Latvian shook, believing she'd be alone in the horribly cold room with no guidance to her own bedroom, but Boris was at her side as the Braginskis filed out. "I'll show you where to go, but only once."

"_Sp-spasibo_…" She muttered shyly.

Regina's amazement grew with each hallway they passed. They passed by countless doors; she couldn't imagine what they would need so many rooms for. And it seemed like they had painted portraits of every Communist general, commander and leader who ever existed. She'd never find her way in this colossal house.

Boris stopped suddenly in the middle of one of the halls and produced a key from his pocket. Regina was not a very observant girl, but she noticed there was no more stunning art and the walls went from real oak to dingy wallpaper. Her door was also one of the few with a lock. Now her stomach was at it's breaking point; she felt ready to be sick.

Boris opened the door wide for her. Timidly, she walked in, and flinched when it was slammed and locked. Now her prison life was starting for real.

Regina looked around and saw everything she needed was provided for. A lovely queen-size bed, a nice dresser, a full-length mirror, even a fireplace and a little bathroom in the corner. Her violin was placed in a lovely case on the dresser; a fancy throw rug was under her feet. There was a sweet bay window with soft pink cushions.

She could've been grateful, in awe, amazed, overjoyed. It was so much cleaner, so bigger than her little room in her cottage.

But Regina couldn't be happy in the slightest. The tears finally began to surface as she fell upon the velvet rug. She was perfectly content with the creaky floors, moth-bitten blankets and cracked windows she was used to. She never wished for money or material things- maybe new shoes or a dress, but nothing more. In her heart, these fine things paled in comparison to her loved home.

Regina was sniffling loudly, trying to hold back sobs in fear of someone finding her. She was too afraid of Boris and whoever else might be in the house to be heard. Her efforts were in horrible vain, because another girl was already in the room.

"Ah! Standing one second and on the floor the next. Are you sick or something?"

Regina's face bolted from her wet sleeves and she was staring directly up at striking green eyes. She gasped and fell back, right on her back.

"Calm down! If you think I'm scary, you are gonna be _so_ uncomfortable for the next … however long you're staying."

The thin girl herself wasn't frightening, it was just that she was in the room the whole time and Regina didn't notice. By the looks of her clothes and weight, she was most likely a lesser servant.

"Get up- oh lord, I'll help." The maid pulled the shaky girl up with little effort. Regina was put off by her appearance. The blonde servant was clearly too skinny and pale to be in good health, a stark contrast to the plump Boris Regina met with earlier. And her clothes were not as well kept as the young woman waiting on the Braginskis before Boris came- the brown dress was frayed at the bottom and littered with ash and stains. She probably was a scullery maid or a superior servant's daughter.

"Wh-who a-ar-are y-y…" Regina began stammering fearfully, and was cut off.

"Felicja, I'm your maid, apparently."

"A-apparently…?"

"Well, they just told me about you coming today, so I didn't have much time to prepare this place, since all the rooms in this hall are filthy and dusty and…" The girl trailed off, and quickly turned away from Regina to sweep fat dust bunnies off the hardwood floor. "You came early. I'm not done."

"I-I'm sorry." Regina nervously fingered the hem of her dress. The girl had a thick Polish accent that was making her Russian difficult to understand.

Felicja hurriedly swept the dust into a pan and dumped it in a little bin next to the bathroom. "Do you _know_ how much of a mess this place was before I got here? Do you know how much filth gets piled up after ten years?"

"T-ten years? Well, n…" Of course, if she could slow down her chattering, it'd be easier…

"A lot! And they send me down here, and I'm supposed to clean up after you till you leave. Which I don't mind, I just think it'd be creepy if someone always cleaned up after me. Followed my every step, scrubbing every footprint I made. That's exactly what Boris said."

"Oh, y-you know Bor…?" And she wasn't really giving Regina a chance to respond…

"If I knew about this earlier… Oh lord, those windows!" She rushed to the bay windows with a wet rag in hand. "If I'd known earlier, I would've changed the sheets. I wouldn't sleep in them, if I were you. That rug is scary too. That's why I thought it was weird when you sat on it."

"Th-the rug?" Regina quickly stepped off it, just noticing the missing patches of velvet and several stains.

The young servant turned quickly and looked Regina up and down. "I'll shine your shoes, if you want. Oh, what're your measurements?"

"My… as in, clothes…?"

"Well, what else? Is that… dress all you packed?"

"I-I brought my gown…" Regina deflated, realizing she'd need something fancier than what she currently had if she was going to be socializing with the Braginskis and their guests everyday.

"Yeah, it _is_ all you have. That's sad, but all I have is this thing, so I shouldn't be talking." Felicja tugged disdainfully at her soiled uniform and stepped off the bay window couch. "We have a tailor here. He can make you something nice, really fast."

"Th-that's not n-necessary…" A free outfit sounded nice, considering she had no money to buy anything new. Wait, were they paying her expenses?

"It is, if you're gonna work here. That's what you're here for, right? To play?" Felicja glanced at the violin case.

"Y-yes…That's what they said…"

"You must be real good, since you're the first one to live here."

As Felicja paused to gather her cleaning supplies into a large bucket, Regina pondered. Why? Couldn't they afford to have more musicians stay? But then again, she wasn't being paid. Did that mean they were going to cover any costs she had, or would she have to get some sort of side job to make her own money? Regina felt weak.

The blonde girl grunted as she lifted the heavy bucket. Her skinny, branch-like arms wobbled but she stood up straight. It seemed she had nothing more to chatter on about, and was slowly realizing how much she talked and what she said. "Um… well, I'll be seeing you later this night… Well, you'll be at dinner, so… maybe tomorrow. " The spirit in her voice quickly faded as she anxiously spoke.

Regina was surprised by the change in personality, but found it pleasant and much less startling. "Da, sp-spasibo, for everything." She wanted to tell the girl hourly cleaning wasn't necessary, but she felt both of them would get in trouble.

Felicja, feeling very awkward and out-of-place, unlocked the door swiftly. She murmured an inaudible goodbye and left. Regina wondered how she could move so fast while carrying such a heavy weight, but then again, the young girl was probably used to it.

She slowly walked to the bay window, sitting on the stiff cushions. She had no choice but to attend the dinner, the one with the unfamiliar food, high-class guests and the Braginskis. She hoped they wanted her to play, not eat. She could only imagine what embarrassments would occur if she did the latter.

Regina brought her knees up to her chest, staring out at the massive white lawn. It was still snowing and she saw the same car she drove in slowly being buried. She saw a servant go up to it, and even from three stories Regina saw how cold he was as he cleared the snow off the vehicle.

She looked away, around her room. It was dreary. It was missing noise. The clanks of the dishes as her mother washed, the creak of the floorboards as her father walked in his thick boots, and the scolding of her brother when anyone did something that irritated him. All that familiarity replaced with a dripping faucet in the bathroom and the hasty footsteps of servants as they passed her door.

Regina cried silently until Felicja returned to bring her to the dinner.

To her lamentation, they wanted her to sit and dine rather than perform. She'd much prefer the latter, especially since the dining hall and table were too large for a family and a few guests, resulting in uncomfortable silence. Regina wondered if it'd be like this every night.

She sat next to Yekaterina and one of the mother's older friends. The ladies were dressed like their hosts, very simple and modest dresses with fine jewelry and ideal manners. They didn't insult Regina's shabby dress or her lack of make-up, but they didn't talk to her either. She was relieved, to say the least, and attempted to settle her stomach as she ate.

Yekaterina spoke the most, as the ladies were inquiring on her wedding. Regina wanted to congratulate her, but somehow felt it wasn't something to be celebrated. Yekaterina wasn't answering with the expected enthusiasm of a soon-to-be bride.

"You're wearing your mother's wedding dress? How nice," One of the ladies said, but it was clear she wasn't impressed.

"I bought some lovely pearls from Italy, Katyusha. I want you to try them on, I think they'd go well with the dress." Another woman said. By the way she and the family talked, it was clear she was the closest with Yekaterina.

Regina's mind began to wander off. She slowly stirred her soup and let herself wander until a commotion was heard at the door. For once during the whole dinner, General Braginski looked up. "Is that…?"

"O-oh my, I'm so late, oh- right, my coat…" A nervous voice echoed through the halls as Boris went to receive the guest. Everyone at the table looked up now, most notably General Braginski and his son. They seemed relieved; it seemed he was a much-anticipated guest.

The doors of the dining room opened and a slender man walked in quickly. He turned on his heels instantly to Mrs. Braginskaya.

"Ma'am! I-I'm sorry! The ice was unforgiving on my taxi." He gave a warm, sincerely apologetic smile. Mrs. Braginskaya instantly shed her icy shell, looking at him like a grandmother seeing the favored grandchild.

"It's quite alright Toris. Please take a seat next to Miss Galantaya."

Regina jumped a bit, not used to hearing her name and too absorbed in looking at the man. He was good-looking, in an older brother sort of way. He nodded his head at her as he sat down, looking over the food hungrily. He spoke with some sort of accent; Regina couldn't tell what it was, and it made his Russian sound lilting and kind.

Instantly the dining room lit up as he began to speak. Apparently he owned a theatre in Moscow, and Mrs. Braginskaya funded one of the ballet troupes that performed there. He had just gotten back from his home country and decided to stop by.

His manner was so laid back and his green eyes so friendly that Regina dared to ask a question, the first time she'd spoke during the dinner.

"M-Mister Lianitis… Wh-where are you from?" She looked directly at him to avoid the noticeable glare from Mrs. Braginskaya.

"Vilnius, Lithuania. Can you tell?"

"Ny-nyet, I w-was curious." She didn't want to say he pronounced common Russian words strangely.

"I am too. What's your name?"

Regina looked down quickly, feeling heat going to her cheeks. The only young man to talk to her was Eduard, and she felt everyone looking at her. "Regina Galantaya," she responded quickly, taking a large mouthful of tea.

"And where are you from?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Here." Regina swallowed her tea and drank more. If they were alone, she would've said Latvia. She knew from experience that mentioning anything but Russia would've gotten her dirty looks and sour comments. Even if this was polite company, she wouldn't dare.

Toris nodded and said simply, "That's nice. It's lovely here." For some reason, she felt he understood.

* * *

I didn't have some kind of A/N after this chapter? Blasphemy!

Anyhoo, I've done several edits here and there. I'm going back and doing this for all my chapters~

Like always, please message/PM/Email me if you have suggestions for the story or info on anything Soviet Union during the 60's! I really appreciate everyone's input and reviews! :D


	5. Chapter 5

Regina couldn't remember when she fell asleep so slowly or the last time she had such empty dreams. It felt like she was still awake, on a shifting bridge between consciousness and slumber. She remained in the odd limbo for many restless hours until she was being shook awake.

Regina made a sound of distress as her body was being forcefully rocked back and forth. She attempted to squirm out of the small hands holding her.

"Stop it! It's just me!" She quickly remembered the owner of the thick Polish accent and relaxed. She blinked as much as her heavy, sleepy eyelids would allow. "Felicja?"

The servant quickly withdrew her hands, allowing Regina to unsteadily sit up. The small girl had the beginnings of a painful headache, she didn't feel rested at all and the room had suddenly become freezing. She shivered in her wool nightgown.

"You should wear more to bed." Felicja said simply, although she didn't have much more to wear during these painfully cold winter nights. She quickly retrieved the thick and wide wicker basket she was ordered to deliver. "Um, here's your breakfast. And some clothes."

Regina didn't respond immediately; she was still trying to stop the dull throbbing in her head. She looked over at Felicja, who was already setting down the plates and silverware on the decaying oak table on the other side of the room. Regina couldn't smell any food, but she was grateful for some, even if it wasn't her mother's. The throbbing suddenly went from her head to her chest, and it only increased in pain.

She unsteadily climbed out of the bed. "Oh, I can set it myself…" Was Felicja assigned to be some kind of personal servant? Regina couldn't bear that.

Felicja shrugged, she was just following orders. She pulled a small metal pot from the basket and tipped it directly over the white bowl on the table. A thick brown soup with odd meats and supposedly vegetables poured out. A few slices of bread and some sort of drink was also added.

Regina awkwardly sat at the table, not accustomed to being served or eating alone. "What is this?"

The blonde servant had to think for a moment. "Just soup, I guess." She shrugged again. "They just gave it to me." Felicja knew it was the leftovers from the servants' dinner, but it wasn't half bad if you warmed it and added some new vegetables - as she did just a few minutes ago.

The thick, unknown substance Regina feel considerably less hungry, especially since she couldn't identify the meat (or vegetables?) that was supposed to be in it. But a hunch told her it could be the only meal for the whole day, so she slowly began eating.

"Oh, and they got you some clothes too."

"Mmnf?" Regina's cheeks looked like she was imitation a chipmunk. She tried to swallow the soup as quickly as possible so she couldn't taste it. The tactic didn't work, the 'flavor' was sharp and almost rotten.

"I think these ... They're in good condition." Felicja didn't want to say they were Yekaterina's old clothes. She took out a few folded garments from the basket. All of them were either a deep maroon or a plain white. Regina was mortified at the thought of owing the Braginskis, even if it was someone as nice as Yekaterina and even if she needed the clothes.

"What's with your face?" Felicja stopped her unfolding. This Latvian _had_ to be the strangest guest she'd ever served.

"I-I can't accept this," Regina said weakly, quickly wiping the soup off her chin with a napkin. "Even if I need it…"

Felicja scoffed and held up the first outfit, a simple and modest red dress. "These aren't brand new! And wouldn't you like some options?" _I definitely would!_

"I suppose?" Regina thought aloud. "This probably means I'll be staying a while…"

"Probably yes." Felicja said bluntly. She put aside the dress and took out the next set, a formal white shirt with a black ribbon around the collar and a long skirt with the exact shade of a red as the dress. _It's like a uniform! What's with all this gross red? If I had a choice, I'd be wearing some super cute magenta right now…_

There was no uncomfortable silence because Regina was eating as fast as she could and Felicja was putting away the clothes in the bare dresser. She picked up the wicker basket and went to the door. "Oh, and they want you in the dining hall with your violin in an hour."

"Wh-what?" Regina nearly spewed the gross stuff all over the rickety table, but the door had already clicked. She had to play something? What? She only brought a handful of sheet music! And she didn't even remember where the dining room was!

Regina felt mentally weak and physically tired, and it was only her second day.

Dressed in the second, less formal outfit Felicja supplied, Regina was as presentable as she could make herself. The bathroom had a few necessities, including a brush, although her curling auburn hair was impossible to manage. Her stockings from yesterday were clean, and the icy sludge from yesterday was nearly gone from her shoes. There wasn't much else she could do.

Her small feet tapped lightly on the solid tile floor as she walked through the towering halls. They were much more inviting in the daylight, darkness only seemed to give the mansion an eerie aura.

She tried her best to observe her surroundings, to take mental notes so she could find her way back, but it was hopeless. Most of the manor was the same, grand as it was. All she knew is her room was on the third floor. … Or maybe the second? How many floors did this endless house have?

Her body began to shake as her anxiety grew. She briskly walked by a tall grandfather clock and checked the time. Felicja said within an hour, and it was fifteen minutes till nine. Regina still didn't have a bit of an idea where she was… She quavered. She couldn't help thinking the horrible things that would happen if she were late…

He didn't know if the quick and shaky _patter, patter _was an annoying or blessed distraction from his work. Ivan had stack after stack of forms and papers at his desk, and for the first time since very early that morning, he broke his concentration. It was only natural he'd be startled- no, mildly surprised, with that sort of walk. The servants quietly tip-toed, and his sister and mother were too graceful to make all that noise.

He had a feeling it'd be that girl, the little Latvian.

Ivan was usually right about his hunches. She walked nervously past his open door, hardly noticing his stare. She seemed to be talking and muttering to herself, too.

"Ah, whose there?" He called out clearly. It really wasn't a question.

He could swear he heard a squeak. Silence, and then… back tracking that was louder than her initial walking. Regina stumbled in, and realized just whose room she was in. She felt tears brimming her eyes. Was he scolding her for being late? But, it was obvious he wasn't attending the breakfast…

"Oh, it's little Regina." Ivan spoke as if he were addressing a child. It was unnerving. She responded with a subtle nod of the head.

"You're up very early. Oh, but that is probably because Yekaterina wants you to play?"

"Y-yes, that…" The rest of her sentence trailed off in a quiet mumble. He hardly noticed, rather, he was looking over her carefully.

Her figure wasn't stunning, but the soft and subtle curves were pleasing for her short height. Her hair was a dull light brown, or perhaps a dark blonde. The Latvian's eyes were probably her most impressive feature, if only she'd look up…

Regina suddenly felt sweaty. She wasn't enjoying his completely even and calm stare. She couldn't look directly at him, instead, she stared at his desk. "E-excuse me… are you going to breakfast?"

"Da, I plan to."

"Th-then… Can you… show me to the dining room?" It was surely asking too much. It felt as if she had a fever. Or chills. Or a cold, or flu, or a panic attack... all of those sounded much more relaxing than this.

His slow rise to her feet startled her more than a yelling voice would. "I suppose I might as well, Katyusha dislikes it when I am late. Come, follow me."

Ivan towered over her by at least a foot and a half. He swept past her, his long legs carrying him across the room quickly. Regina had to spin on her heels and trot after him. It's not like he was intentionally walking so fast that she ended up running to catch up…

Yekaterina's baby blue eyes lighted at the sight of her brother and running behind him, Regina. She was afraid he wouldn't be present and that Regina would be too tired from her trip to appear. Anything was better than breakfast with just her mother and her friends.

"Brother, I'm glad you came," Yekaterina ignored the disapproving looks as she shot from her seat and gave her younger sibling a hug. He wholly returned it, and Yekaterina smiled down at Regina. The Latvian tried to control her heavy breathing- the path from Ivan's office to the dining room was ridiculously long! She didn't blame him for wanting to skip breakfast.

"Re- Miss Galantaya! Did you sleep well?" Yekaterina wondered if she received the wool blankets she sent.

Regina nodded, hoping her ruffled appearance wouldn't betray her. "Da, it very well. Thank you for the room."

Yekaterina was about to invite her guest to a seat at the table, but paused. "You brought your violin? Do you intend to play?" Her smile widened noticeably.

The Latvian girl froze for a moment, her words disappearing. Didn't Felicja tell her they expected it? Maybe Yekaterina wasn't aware…?

She swallowed. "I-I do…"

"You're too kind Regina!" Forgetting formalities, Yekaterina pulled Regina into the same hug she gave her brother- only this one was a little more painful for the receiving party, due to Regina being so small and Yekaterina having a surprisingly masculine grip.

Regina's labored breathing returned once she was released, and her hostess could hardly contain her happiness. "What will you play? Oh, I have no requests- I like anything." She turned quickly to her mother. "Anything is fine, da? You must hear her, mother-!"

Having a peasant in the house was as bad as her daughter's childish admiring. "Da, da, Yekaterina. Sit down now, we can't keep the guests hungry."

Her daughter's smile hardly fell. She said obediently, and looked at Regina with starry eyes. Ivan smirked in amusement.

The other guests were plump women with lots of jewels and thick dresses. Regina had never seen such hairstyles, but she figured they were what was fashionable. While Yekaterina was nothing short of glowing the anticipation, the others were skeptical.

Regina felt herself shake. She performed before thousands at that grand theatre, but this seemed different, almost like an entrance exam than an entertaining performance.

It didn't help that the mother had such a critical gaze… And Ivan's expression was unreadable, despite his assumingly kind smile.

Holding the decorated scroll firmly, she kept her chin steady despite her weakening heart. She held the bow against the strings, and it all came back to her. She picked a song that, for some reason, stood out.

_Be thou with me… _As the lyrics loosely floated in her head, Regina led her bow gracefully across her violin. Slowly but firmly, it played the light melody, one perfect for a spring morning. It lightened her mood and was her mother's favorite piece. _It makes me think of princesses, Regina, dancing across a white floor in a room with large windows…_

The memory caused Regina to falter for a moment. She continued, not bothering to look up. She felt a growing pride in herself, a kind of courage that only occurred when she played.

Why could she glide her bow back and forth with such confidence, remember each note so well, as if it were a close friend? Countless songs and melodies played in her head, and she was so sure of them… Why couldn't she be more sure of herself?

The song ended, and with it, Regina's fantasy of princesses and her assurance. She slowly lowered her violin to look at her small audience.

Yekaterina clapped, albeit softly, because she and her brother the only ones. She smiled broadly, wanting to say the praises that were dancing on the tip of her tongue since Regina first began. Ivan had his same smile, with a subtle look of ... Something watchful. It was almost as if he clapped and enjoyed it just for Yekaterina's humor, and something else.

"Very good," Was the most lavish compliment Mrs. Braginskaya said. "It is a lovely song."

"What is it's name? Who composed it?" One of the women inquired.

"B-bist du bei mir… B-by Bach…" Regina responded, pronouncing the German with such clarity that the women were put off. Regina knew a considerable amount of German, considering she played and studied so many pieces by Beethoven, Mozart and Bach. Ah, but her teachers often scolded her for such things...

"I think I've heard that before," Yekaterina said, more to herself. She turned to her mother. "At Comrade Dyakov's wedding, a year ago…?"

"If you wish, you can play it at your's." Her mother's words had hints of bitterness.

Yekaterina tried to ignore the comment by focusing on her food. Regina noticed it was hardly touched compared to the others.

One of the fatter women spoke up, "Young girl, you must know of the Nutcracker. Could you play Op. 71, the Ballet Suite?"

Regina thought of the name, and the melody quickly followed. "Y-yes ma'am." She held the violin back to her chin, and let her arm move on it's own. This time, she had no thoughts of her family.

Breakfast ran into the early afternoon, and Regina began feeling weary fatigue as the minutes dragged by. They had asked her to stop playing, as the women began having conversations bordering on arguments. She wishes they'd led her return to her room, or at least sit down, rather than standing silently.

It seemed it was a custom for the servants to leave the room, wait for the family to depart, and then rush back in to retrieve the dishes and clean the table. Regina wanted to talk to Yekaterina, not to hear the girl's excited praises and admiration, but for answers. Yekaterina seemed too oblivious, too unaware of how Regina was taken.

Even if the servant's hadn't shooed her out and she got a chance to speak with the Russian heiress, Regina didn't believe she'd be able to confront her like that. She shook as she imagined Yekaterina's horrified expressions, and Ivan's piercing eyes.

Regina tried to shake off the scary images. She vaguely knew the way back to her room, but she didn't want to risk the chance of passing Ivan's office and having him notice her again. Perhaps there was another way, a hall the servant's used to stay out of sight.

Regina wandered for a few minutes and a rare moment of luck befell her. She spotted Felicja.

"F-Felicja, excuse me, uhm…" She walked up the Pole, shaking despite herself. Once she started, she couldn't stop.

Felicja glanced behind her shoulder, her face mildly surprised. "I knew I heard you. Breakfast is over?"

"Y-yes… I can't find my room."

Felicja rolled her bright eyes with exaggeration and sighed. "You'll need to figure out this place quick. They won't always help you."

Was she talking about servants or the family? "I-I know, I'm sorry-"

"Why'd you come down this hall, anyway? The other one is shorter. Who cares, follow me." Felicja seemed anxious, she had noticeable distraction in her voice.

"Tha-thank you Felicja, thank you," Regina mumbled gratefully, following the hasty maid. Regina felt it odd that she wasn't holding any sort of cleaning utensils or boxes or baskets, as she normally did.

And her appearance seemed off… Her hair looked less dirty, and her face was clean of the dirt and soot that was present that morning. Maybe she just didn't have time to wash up before?

"Right here," Felicja opened the door to the familiar room. Regina wanted to pinch herself for focusing on the back of Felicja's head rather than where they were going.

"Try to remember. Goodbye." The Polish maid left, not giving Regina a chance to repeat her gratitude. Yes, that was certainly strange, but this whole situation was as well.

The following mornings were ones of awkward tensions. Regina continued to play for the family and their many houseguests, and afterward was promptly dismissed by the mother. She would have liked to sit and speak with Yekaterina (and have some food other than old soup), but she still felt too much like a prisoner.

It was the fourth day when Regina wasn't roughly woken by Felicja. She groggily sat up, wondering what time it was. In Leningrad, the darkness of morning and night was the same.

Regina had just finished dressing herself when Felicja arrived. She was always carrying a basket, but this one was considerably heavier. Regina helped her place it on the table. The maid was mildly curious, "You're awake?" _Normally she sleeps like a bear…_

"Y-yes," Regina shivered despite her wool socks. "Wh-what time is it?"

"Seven thirty, I think The Family is still sleeping," Felicja said, using the name she and the servants for their masters. All of them had been awake. The damp and grimy rooms they lived in were too cold for sleep this time of year, with or without the thin blankets they owned. Most of them huddled by the many lit kitchen ovens to stay warm. Felicja didn't. She hated being so close to strangers, and the poor living quarters were actually quite spacious with no one in them. She opened the basket and along with Regina's everyday breakfast, withdrew a deep maroon coat, with thick animal fur on the inside. The Latvian was caught off guard, and nearly choked on her spoon.

The Pole obviously found her expression funny, and cracked a smile. "This is for you. Miss Braginskaya wants you to go with her to see her fiancée, Comrade General Chazok or Chazov or whoever."

The chill of Russian winter went from deathly to almost tolerable in her new coat. She felt embarrassed, as she never owned such a fine thing. To make it worse, Yekaterina included new black boots and gloves, all made of real leather. She walked beside the towering woman as they were escorted to the most chic of the Braginski's cars.

"You look so cute, Regina, like a doll." Yekaterina chose were words carefully. She had a feeling the small girl was uncomfortable around her, but she couldn't grasp why. She wondered if she was being too charitable, but Yekaterina loved giving, and wasn't intended to show Regina's poverty…

"Th-thank you Miss Braginskaya." Regina's cheeks reddened, furthering her patron's simile. "And th-thank you for giving it to me…"

"Don't apologize!" Yekaterina blurted, and would've said more, but the car door was opened for them. The vehicle was warm, a comfort, as just a few minutes outside had given them chills. They sat in a comfortable silence, one the older woman did not want to break.

She was happy when Regina spoke up first. "M-miss Braginskaya?"

Yekaterina wondered if her response was too eager. "Da?"

She looked directly at the Latvian, it was only proper. Regina felt threatened; even if Yekaterina's eyes weren't as smoldering or as creepy as her brother's. She wanted to ask when she could leave, if it was ever possible to see her family again. "Wh-what's your fiancée like?"

The small girl was too afraid and shy to ask such direct questions, so she settled on trivial ones. Besides, wasn't she curious about Yekaterina's marriage when she first heard it on the radio?

Yekaterina paused thoughtfully. She didn't even know enough about him to talk in flowery detail, as did the women in her romance novels. And there was somewhat of a dreading feeling that she never would. "Oh, he's been working with my brother and father. He's a… polite man."

Regina was not dense, and understood. The duo said little during the remainder of the car ride.

It was one of the few days Felicja was happy to have hallway cleaning duty. The job consisted of harshly scrubbing frosty water on hard floor until your fingertips went red, your knees swelled and you could see your unattractive reflection on the frigid ground. It was work she would refuse fiercely, demanding to be put to some other job. Sweeping the ashes, washing the clothes- anything.

Today was a rare exception because he had been staying in the mansion. She'd have a chance to see him, finally. It'd been several weeks. She didn't have a chance these past four days because that fat Boris and his hawk of a woman kept her out of sight. 'Not presentable', they said. 'Hardly lady-like'.

_Well, if I had some new damn clothes and bath water… _Felicja bitterly scrubbed harder at a particular piece of mud. She'd have to use her nails to get it off, but there was no way that'd happen. She wanted to keep just a scrap of personal hygiene.

Naturally vain girls didn't make good servants. She understood why Teresa begged for these jobs, but she didn't enjoy it.

Felicja frowned inwardly. She hated feeling selfish, especially after all her sister did for her.

She heard footsteps echoing through the halls. Fearing it was one of the Family, or worse, Boris, she gathered up her materials and moved to the other hall, out of sight. She cursed at not having any towel to dry the water and suds.

The footsteps stopped right when she went around the corner. Damn, maybe it really was Boris.

"Felicja? It's just me."

Felicja nearly dropped her water bucket in her happiness- she wouldn't have picked it up, anyway. She emerged from the hall, bounding up to the Lithuanian man with energy that wasn't there before.

"Toris! You've been away too long!" Despite her happiness, she gave him a look of dissatisfaction, akin to a teacher scolding a late student.

Toris smiled sheepishly, as if he were truly embarrassed for being away. "I'm sorry. You know my schedule and all the insanity it entails."

"I couldn't even see you all these days you've been here!" Felicja continued. "Which room are you staying in?"

"Oh, I've got a room in a local hotel…"

"Toris!" The maid stomped her foot, her cheeks puffing. Toris thought it was too cute to be threatening. "What I have I told you? Why can't you stay here?"

"I've told you why before, over and over." He affectionately pet Felicja's hair. He knew she didn't like it when he did that, because she was ashamed of how dirty it was. Just like she didn't like hand-holding because she never had a chance to wash them, or kissing, because she never wore make-up.

It was unusual how much he knew about Felicja, and it had only been a few years since their fateful meet.

"To-ris! You aren't listening!"

He blinked, coming out of his short daydream. "Oh? A-ah, yes… I wasn't."

"You won't get a wife if you turn off your ears like that," Felicja teased, mocking anger by crossing her arms.

Toris smiled and touched her hair again, unable to keep away. He wanted to say something heartfelt, along the lines of he'd never have a wandering eye, as long as she was there. He settled for simple laughter as she tried to shoo his hand away.

* * *

Oh GAWD I haven't updated in so long, please forgive! ;;n;;

A cute moment of LietPol fluff at the end, because I'm getting bored with writing the Braginskis and Regina xD I can't think of a single happy thing.

My inspiration for what should occur next with Regina is pretty much zilch; I've got Poland and Lithuania covered but not the main character, omg. Please contribute ideas! And I'd love to hear any comments or reviews or concerns you have. And if you have any historical comments or notes to add, do so! And THANK YOU for all the watches, favorites and reviews thus far! ;;u;; On this story and all my others!


	6. Chapter 6

On the edge of a town no one had heard of, a small clinic, if the small shack could be called that, was nestled between many trees and dirt roads. A facility that was normally immaculate, inside and out, it was slowly falling into disrepair.

The clinic had four rooms, and the largest of them was a wreck of disorder. Papers scattered, medical tools idling on their rusting trays, a light bulb that was flickering with its last bit of strength and a collection of coffee mugs half-finished.

It was a bitterly cold day. He should've been warning the townspeople to bundle up, stay inside, light a fire. He should've been doing the same thing, resting in his favorite chair, listening to his parents talk, butting in occasionally to give his hard-headed opinion. His sister would've been wrapped in a bundle of quilts, quietly laughing at him.

So many should'ves, would'ves. The house hadn't been warm in a long time.

Eduard's mind was in disarray. He tried to force himself to his work, to stay away from that house that was now heavy with heartache. His parents were mourning, as if Regina had passed away. But it was worse; she was miles away and they had no idea what her condition was. It had been three weeks, and already they were falling apart with worry and stress. They were pariahs in the town, avoided because no one wanted to ask where the small girl who would run all over town disappeared to. Everyone had seen the muscle car, and the intimidating man and woman in their expensive clothes.

Rumors surfaced, she had been taken to the work camps, or sold to some royal family as a servant or performer… or something worse, every mother's nightmare - Regina was a pretty girl…

Eduard stared intently at the stacks of papers that had names, so many names of locations and people that Regina might've come in contact with. Her coward of a teacher ran away after she was taken. He had no leads, and he knew none of this would help him. But he kept reading over and over, as if he'd encounter an epiphany if he tried hard enough.

The young man didn't notice he was dozing off. The papers slipped out of his thin hand and glided to the ground, adding to the pile already there.

His mind became hazy. He began thinking of his small sister, but slowly, she drifted away. She was so close, he could've held her hand, but she slowly faded into the thick fog. When did fog come into the village? He looked down and his hands were disappearing. He wanted to shout out to her, but he could feel his throat and body dispersing.

Eduard's breath hitched and his features hardened as a hand was placed on his shoulder. Mrs. Galantaya sighed at the condition of her oldest child: Having restless nightmares, surrounded by smeared paperwork in a stuffy office. She was getting tired of these dangerous, mounting habits.

"Eduard, darling, please wake up." She said softly, but her shaking was anything but. Her son bolted up with a start, his eyes startled and bloodshot.

"I-I-! Mother…!" He adjusted his glasses with clumsy hands. The tired young man tried to focus, but his head was swimming with vague memories of his dream. "Why… Why are you here?"

Mrs. Galantaya tried her best to settle his wild blonde hair. It hadn't been brushed properly in days. "Eduard, you are coming home right now."

"I-I have work…" It was a weak protest.

"Driving yourself insane with no sleep or food is hardly work. When have you slept more than three hours? Get up," She had to help him.

He stumbled, slowly awakening. He was ashamed for having his mother come all the way to the clinic at this hour, but he had to find Regina. Somehow, these papers, maybe they had something. All he needed was an inkling, a small sign…

"Careful now." His mother led him up the steps of their doorway into the house. "Now, just rest in the living room. I'll bring your dinner."

Eduard mumbled thanks as he collapsed on the couch. It was warm and soft, opposite of his creaky chair and desk. His father had probably got to bed hours ago, and the candlelight in the room caused the shadows to flicker across the old wooden house…

In the morning he awoke loudly and startled his parents, who were already up and going about their day. He had fallen asleep the minute he sat on the couch. After being nearly force-fed a large breakfast by his mother, and being shoved in the bathroom by his father, he was walking back to the clinic.

The food and washing had given him energy. He was ready to return to his search.

Eduard didn't like worrying his parents or the townspeople, but since he was a child, he had silent determination. He wasn't hot-headed or overbearing, he just had intense resolve.

He'd never felt such a growing… anger? Protectiveness? Willpower? Something was driving him to make sure the only sibling he had, his first friend, his greatest confident was safe and happy. His parents gave up, wether they realized it or not, but he never would. He resolved to bring his sister back. If that was truly and completely impossible, Eduard would go to her.

"I hope you won't have to wait long, Regina."

"Your own performing hall? Here?"

"Well, I don't _own_ it, but my troupe and I spend almost all of our time there."

Regina had spent most of the afternoon speaking with Toris in the gardens. He was terribly humble and kind, the sort of person who could get along with anyone, wether he liked them or not. He had been telling her why he visited Leningrad all the way from his home in Lithuania.

"The Braginski family heard of my work, and was generous enough to grant my troupe permission to perform all over Soviet Russia, mostly here and in Moscow. It provides amazing opportunities for my students."

"Yes, I can see that," Regina said, remembering her own performances. She was surprised at how much she missed them. She disliked having attention drawn to herself, but if she was playing the violin, it was just fine. They walked on the cobblestone path, the snow cleared just an hour earlier. The wind and snow stopped but it was just as cold, so the two were bundled up in thick furs, making their arm movement a little difficult.

Regina's new boots clicked with each light step she took. She was so embarrassed when Yekaterina presented them to her, but she had never worn any shoe with a high heel, and it made her feel… almost grown-up. Even if she was stumbling for several days, trying to get used to them.

Toris sensed her clumsiness and allowed her to take his arm. They continued their walk like this, making small talk and admiring the winter scenery. Somehow, the wide and towering mansion seemed more inviting than when she first arrived.

They had already walked around the mansion gardens twice, and decided to go a different route, to the large gazebo where Lady Braginskaya held her dining parties for all her high society friends. In the spring and summer, it was probably a beautiful place- large trees circled it, almost making it a secret little house. But in the winter, it was almost a dull ruin. The trees were bare and the gazebo seemed to sag under the weight of the snow.

That didn't stop Ivan Braginski from setting up a game of chess in it. A handful of his comrades were with him, intent on the game before them. Ivan was playing against Colonel Vadim Komorov, a young man just a year older than him and equal his rank. The two put on the façade of being close friends, but there was deep resentment between them. This only seemed to surface during their many chess games on the gazebo.

Regina and Toris slowed their pace when the party came into their view. "O-oh, is that C-Comrade Colonel Braginski…?" The small girl asked, somewhat cautious. While the only son of the wealthy family wasn't as hostile as his mother or cold as his father, he was still unnerving for reasons she couldn't exactly describe.

"Ah, yes, it is. He often plays chess with his fellow officers when he's free."

"A-aren't they cold?" Regina had thick layers, but she still felt a slight chill. She couldn't imagine the flashy, meant-for-show military uniforms were made for bitter cold.

Toris chuckled. "They're very intense about their games. I doubt they notice the weather. I've never had much skill at it, so they don't invite me, haha."

She nodded in agreement. Regina didn't understand the game at all, either- there were only a few chess boards in her village, and it wasn't considered a productive thing to do with your pastime.

"My, my. You're catching up, Colonel." Komorov chuckled good-humouredly, but irritability was evident in his sharp eyes. His Rook just got picked off with a skewer- god, how did he not see it coming?

Ivan smirked slightly, his own eyes just as cold but masked by fake humor. He was winning, but he hardly slacked- his pieces were controlling the center. Komorov was in check, so he moved his King to a protected area. Defeat was evident, but the stubborn Colonel still felt he had a chance. The three men around them still thought he could back a comeback, the fools.

Within minutes, Komorov was put in checkmate with Ivan's Rook. His praise was too well-worded, his tone sour. "Well played, but I couldn't expect less from you, Comrade Colonel Braginski."

Ivan no longer felt sweet victory from these matches. For all the thought and strategy they required, the checkmate didn't give him much satisfaction. However, Komorov's defeated, bitter eyes were always a treat. Always.

A servant delivered lunch and drinks to them, so the men decided to take a break- not only for the food, but to ease the tension between the Colonels. Komorov and Braginski had an uncanny ability to drape any room in thick tension, no matter what they were doing.

"Whose the little red riding hood that keeps walking past with the Lithuanian?" Lieutenant Colonel Motova asked, his last word spoken with obvious disdain. The two were several feet from the gazebo, but the girl's maroon coat seemed to burn into the white snow.

"That is Katyusha's ward, a violinist." Ivan replied simply.

"Right, she was talking about the girl earlier. A Latvian, da? She's got a small body." The man was interested but clearly unimpressed, if that made any sense.

Lieutenant Colonel Zenchikov was the most mature of the group. "She's still a child, Motova. Don't eye her like a woman."

"I wasn't!" The heavy weight man responded defensively. "I was just observing!"

Major Brize was the youngest of the five men, but just as sharp. "Hey, you have a fiancée waiting at home, unlike some of us. Appreciate what you have." He gave a boyish grin.

"That prude is as dense as her parents. I can't stand being alone with her." Motova took another deep swig, seemingly used to the strength of the vodka. "Brize, the other day, I meant to ask you…"

Ivan toned out of their idiotic conversation, as he often did. He hated being subjected to these materialistic, showboating idiots. But he had to keep up appearances, even if he could think of a thousands different, better things to do…

"Was I not a challenge for you, _Comrade_ Braginski?" Komorov spoke softly, but Ivan could hear him clearly.

"Should I be honest, _Comrade_ Komorov?"

"Please."

"You were careless and readily took all the bait I set."

The man's knifelike eyes flickered behind his glasses. "Harsh language for someone who admires your skill, Ivan."

_Admire. Cajoling charlatan. _Ivan kept his sneer down, turning to focus on the house looming over them and the gardens around it. A scene he viewed at least hundreds of thousands of times, but it never ceased to relax him. "Gentle words do little for a learning student, Vadim."

_Learning student. Arrogant daddy's boy. _Komorov adjusted his glasses with an inaudible mumble, which always seemed to be dangerously close to slipping off his nose. His body tensed and he took a drink. Ivan succeeded in silencing him for the rest of the outing.

By the time his comrades had left, Regina and Toris had finished their fourth lap around the grounds of the Braginski estate. Her feet were getting sore and Toris had to get back to his troupe, so they decided to go separate ways.

"Are you sure I can't escort you back?" Toris looked down at the girl with worry. It wasn't a long way back to the mansion, but she just seemed like a little girl, especially in that coat that was too big for her.

"Ny-nyet, I know wh-where to go." Regina didn't want to make him late, and the sun was quick to set. Driving on icy, dark roads was hardly a good time.

"If you insist! Goodbye Regina, it was a great pleasure talking with you." He gave a sweet smile and headed for the driveway.

It would be getting cold quick, but her sore ankles and the fear of a painful slip of her heels kept her walking slow. Well, one more look of the grounds wouldn't be too bad- since she'd be here for who knows how long, wouldn't it be good to remember where everything is?

Too bad she somehow got turned around, despite the pathway. The cold was beginning to eat through her coat and boots straight to her skin. She shivered and hoped she wouldn't cry, that wouldn't help. But with her fear mounting and the sun getting lower, she was ready to start crying.

Why didn't these grounds have lights? They could afford it! Or maybe they were smart enough not to wander past sunset- Oh! Regina recognized the gazebo and relief washed over her. She knew how to get back to the mansion from there.

Regina stopped in her tracks, her heels jerking her ankles at her sudden halt. If she hadn't done a double take, she would've missed him.

Ivan was still sitting at the table in the gazebo. Regina was quite a few feet away, but she could still see his rigid figure, a trouble expression. Wasn't he freezing? Had he been thinking so intently that he lost track of time?

Her sense told her to keep going, to hurry inside before she became a little block of ice. Instead, Regina swept up her hood and tucked in her hair. Regina blundered through the thick snow, her shoes and skinny legs protesting with each step. Finally, she reached the cement ground of the gazebo.

She didn't think just those few feet would be so hard to waddle through! She tried to catch her breath, then became a shaking fit as she realized she had nothing to say to the powerful man she just approached.

Ivan though her mere arrival was stranger than her lack of conversation. He glanced up at her, his all-consuming, deep thoughts slipping away with surprising speed. He didn't mind that much- his sister and mother got so worried when he spent too much time alone, thinking.

He stood up from his seat and looked directly down, since the girl was only a few inches from him. The two were already aware of their great height different, but she looked even smaller with that fur-lined coat framing her face and covering everything but her shoes and gloves. Up close, even with the dim light, it was a raw shade of maroon.

Unfitting for her meek personality, but it complimented her appearance. The passionate red made her flushed cheeks and lilac eyes similar to that of a doll.

Yes, that's exactly what she was. His sister's doll. He spent a few minutes pondering all this.

Regina was seriously, completely, absolutely, entirely regretting walking up to him. Yes, he acknowledged she arrived, he even stood up, but she her words twisted in her throat. She didn't even know why she did this in the first place…

Oh! Now she remembered, sort of. "I-It's b-b-b-becoming l-late…" She struggled with her words, the combination of her natural stutter and her body's shivering butchered her nerves. "I-I… W-well, I-I was a little concerned…"

One of Ivan's eyebrows raised a bit. _She_ was the one who looked ready to pass out. He had been through worse weather.

Nevertheless, "Ah, I am fine. But I should go back… You too."

"Y-yes! O-o-of course, I was, b-but I got lost… Th-then I saw you." She had a feeling that he spent long periods of time alone.

"Hmm?" Ivan made a thoughtful sound, a little smile playing at his lips. "Were you concerned?"

The two struggled across the snow, Regina having a great deal more difficulty than Ivan, who strode effortlessly. She flushed in embarrassment, although her face was already red from the cold pinching at her cheeks. "Y-yes, th-there's no lights o-out h-h-here. It'll g-get s-so dark…"

Lights. That'd be a smart thing to add to the gazebo, and around the pathway. He made a mental note and responded, "I don't often stay out during the winter." In truth, he bitterly despised cold. Yet it was strange how he was so unaffected by it.

"St-st-still, y-y-you could- _Ahh!_" Regina cried out as her thin heel jammed into something buried in the snow and stopped her so abruptly that she fell forward. The girl scrunched her face and expected a chilly collision, but instead felt something tight wrap around her arm and pull her, rather painfully. Then her face got smacked into something hard.

"O-oww-!" She grimaced, and wobbled a set back… Oh, she was on the cobble road now…

The large hand removed from her arm and a dull throbbing started there. "Ah, I'm sorry." Colonel Braginski didn't mean to hold so tightly.

Regina felt her whole body overheat when she realized she had been bumped right into his chest, his, _Ivan Braginski. _And he helped prevent several bruises (although causing one) by pulling her away from the root sticking out of snow-!

"Th-thank you!" She exclaimed, her shaking continuing after a second pause. Why was she so surprised he'd help her? He wasn't openly cruel…But she thought he was still _very _intimidating. Even if he had a smile that was akin to a little boy playing a prank…

"You really do look much smaller with that coat."

"I-I… Um, y-yes…" What was the proper response to that? She doubted he heard her, because he had just walked briskly in the opposite direction, away from the mansion. Regina turned on her heels. "C-comrade C-C-Colonel Braginski-!"

"I will be staying out here, for just a little longer." Ivan said, the smile still playing at his lips. "Don't lose your way home, little Regina." His father would reprimand him for staying out and his sister and mother would rattle off all the horrible things they thought happened to him. He really didn't care.

But Regina certainly did, didn't she? That was bothersome too. She watched after him for only a few moments, and decided to turn around and go back to the mansion. She really didn't want to leave the tall man out here, but it's not like he couldn't take care of himself…

She arrived quickly, and the moment her coat was taken off and her boots were put away Yekaterina asked for a chat. They sat on over-stuffed leather furniture, sipping hot cocoa in front of a massive fireplace. Regina felt very uncomfortable with it all, she thought she'd never really get used to the finery. At least Yekaterina was a kind woman to talk to.

After an hour, she asked suddenly, "Oh, where's Vanya? I wonder if he's in his office."

Had he come home yet? Regina shrugged and sipped her drink that was now cold.

Yekaterina's face showed noticeable worry. "Oh, well… He's just busy, then."

Regina shivered in her night dress, even with her new stockings, it was quite cold. She began closing all the drapes in the room, and was thankful Felicja replaced the thin curtains with these thick, warm ones.

The last window was right by her bed, and gave a lovely view of a full moon. It was pretty, but she preferred warmth over a nice view. She looked down and realized she could see the gazebo, although it was somewhat sheltered by all the trees. Just as she was about to close the curtain, her heart twitched with dread.

A large man, only visible because of the full moon, was leaving the gazebo. Was it… _Colonel Braginski_? There was no greenery for the gardeners to care for, and no one would be out at this hour anyway.

She had half a mind to go to his office and see if he was there, but instead, she pulled the drapes shut and curled into her blankets.

"Eduard! I haven't seen you in a while!"

"Ah- hello ma'am…" He gave a small wave to the general store's wife. The doctor was still lacking in energy (despite being force fed so many thick soups) and was there to run an errand for his father. The older woman smiled and went back to her friend, who she was gossiping with.

"Didn't both your girls head for the city?"

"Yes, they were offered jobs as nannies for a large family. It pays very well, although we can only see them on the holidays…"

"I guess you have no choice, there's no money here."

"That's what they said, and they send most of their money to us, to help us pay for bread…"

Eduard gathered the last of the things he needed and stood by the counter, patiently waiting for the women to notice him.

"So many young people are getting hired by these wealthy families in Moscow. They hire all the Baltics, Poles and Ukrainians for all the demeaning jobs they don't want to do." The old woman said bitterly. "And such small wages..."

"It keeps us going, and my girls proud to give help to our Comrades in the cities-" The other woman sighed.

"I'm sorry," Eduard interrupted. "Is that why so many young people are leaving?"

"Yes," The store owner's wife said. "They're offered good jobs by other Comrades."

"Who specifically offers them?"

"The families advertise in the paper," She handed a stack of water-warped papers to him. She frowned, "You're not thinking of leaving us, are you Eduard?"

He didn't answer, instead, he flipped to the 'doctors requested' column. Arranged by city, several families were asking for someone willing to be a personal family doctor.

…All he needed was the family's name. There were so many on this paper, he was so sure, so positive, one of them had Regina. He scanned the whole page within seconds, straining his eyes, but he had found it.

_Braginski._

"Are you alright Eduard?" The women were genuinely concerned by his paling face. "Do you need to sit down?"

_Braginski Family, located in Leningrad: In want of personal family doctor. Must have experience. Boarding, food and transportation will be paid for, salary is…_

Swiftly, he ripped out the page and ran from the general store. The women calling after him were ignored. He found his energy as he went for home; he couldn't remember running this fast before.

The door in to the small Galante home flew open, and his mother nearly dropped her dishes in surprise.

"E-Eduard-! What-?"

"I found her," He breathed, his chest swelling up and down as he tried to grasp his breath and speak. "I-I know where she is,"

His mother didn't need to be told who 'she' was. The dishes she just gathered nearly fell to the floor again. "H-how…?"

"Here," Eduard slumped to the floor and unraveled the paper, he didn't notice that he crumbled it so bad. "I-I know where… where she is."

She paused, her breath stopped short. His mother sat on the floor next to him. She took the paper, looking down at it carefully. "Are you sure?"

He coughed harshly into his hand. "Yes."

"…How long will you stay there?"

"I won't. I'll take her and leave."

* * *

Que a James Bond-style rescue mission with Eduard wearing a suit and going, "Galante. Eduard Galante." You have Ashley Sensie to thank for Eduard becoming the Braginski's personal doctor! :D

Waah, why are all my chapters just cliffhangers? XD Nothing actually happens! Oh well, I like building up suspense. I wrote Ivan's comrades names for a reason, they are important. Oh, and I finally got off my lazy ass and looked up military ranks in Russia. The real names were painfully long, so I put the English equivalents. Now I have to go over all my chapters and replace 'Sergeant Ivan Braginski' with 'Colonel Ivan Braginski' xD

And lots of thanks to my brother, who helped me with all the chess terms. You'll be seeing a lot more- This is RUSSIA after all O:

As always, thank you SO SO MUCH for your patience and reviews! Keep giving me ideas and some suggestions for things you'd like to see in future chapters!


	7. Chapter 7

It was what Lady Braginskaya called 'The Day'. It was the dream of all mothers: The day of her beloved daughter's wedding. She spent weeks, months, tirelessly planning, calling, writing, organizing. As the date came closer and closer, her excitement was on edge. She ran through and around the house, barking orders. She had a three inch notebook, filled to the brim with all details of the wedding.

Yekaterina had little say in her own wedding preparations. She preferred it like that. The young woman ignored the calendar in her room, but she couldn't ignore her loud mother, who threw options at her: Daisies or roses? Outside or inside? Chocolate or vanilla? Yekaterina just left her mother and fiancée to decide.

General Chazov was not a horrible man, but he wasn't the brightest. He was materialistic and it was obvious he only wanted her for a young trophy wife and to gain her father's favor. He stood by her through all the decisions, making little suggestions here and there (her mother usually ignored him) and trying to engage Yekaterina in small talk. She was less than enthusiastic in her answers.

The days became more and more hectic as The Day loomed. Regina noticed Yekaterina and her mother were missing every other breakfast, and she honestly felt nervous performing without the kind woman. Her mother was inviting less and less guests, wanting to 'build suspense' for the wedding.

One morning, three days before the wedding, Regina trotted down the steps with her violin. She was almost getting used to the routine of playing every morning for the family. Throughout the day she mostly helped the servants or (uncomfortably) visited with Yekaterina's wealthy friends. She had found a good confident, Toris, who understood her situation. And Felicja, despite her shyness, was becoming a close friend.

She still felt a lasting sadness, loneliness, an understandable wanting for her family. She wished she could somehow tell them she missed them, that she was safe. Regina felt guilt for becoming so comfortable with this situation when she knew they were probably fretting over her welfare everyday.

She was very surprised upon entering the dining area. The tall and thick oak table, meant to seat at least two dozen guests, only held three: Colonel Ivan, General Chazov and Colonel Komorov.

Regina froze and blushed, as the Chazov and Komorov halted the conversation to see her enter. Chazov gave his trademark childish grin. "Good morning, Comrade Galantaya!"

Regina was a little put off by his enthusiasm, especially because Komorov was fearfully intimidating, and Ivan decided to stare down at his food. "H-Hello Comrade G-General Chazov… A-am I int-t-teruppting…?"

Komorov glanced at her, unimpressed, bothered. He turned to his companions, looking directly at Ivan. "Why is she here, _Comrade_?"

Regina looked down and awkwardly shuffled her feet, and Ivan put down his silverware. He folded his hands and rested his chin on them, staring steady glare lasers at Komorov. "She plays every morning for us, _Comrade_."

Colonel Komorov's features noticeably twitched. Regina muttered, "I-I can leave-"

"Comrade Galantaya! Do you have any original composed works?" General Chazov asked loudly, the tension flying over his head. Regina blinked at his random request. She'd never been asked that. "W-well, yes, I-I've written a bit…"

"Could you play a few? Something calming and serene, if you can."

Regina nodded and Chazov beamed, feeling she was doing a very important duty in entertaining the small party. She began, deciding upon a little song she wrote one spring day. Regina could remember it vividly: The sky was a beautiful grey blue, and the flowers were just starting to bloom. It had been such a peaceful day, and she felt so calm and comfortable in her old room that she just had to write something. She began the song.

_Ah, the idiot actually had a good idea._ Ivan thought. Being near Komorov and Chazov always put him in an annoyed mood, and having the two in one room was slowly grating down his patience. The music seemed to be calming his nerves. General Chazov chattered endlessly, assuming the two were listening to him. Ivan forced his grating voice out, leaving only the music. He rather liked this piece, his mother usually commanded the girl to play only annoyingly dull music by Russian composers that he'd heard at least twenty times before.

The piece was dainty and composed. The music seemed to dance on the air and follow the sunlight, giving the whole room a sense of peace. If Komorov dared break the mood, Ivan would have many choice words and a formidable laser-glare ready for him.

Chazov began clapping the second she finished. Ivan followed with soft clapping and Komorov hardly moved. Regina wasn't embarrassed in the least bit, her music always gave her confidence, and she was happy she remembered something she composed so long ago. She'd have to write it down later.

"Very good, comrade Galantaya! It made me feel like it was a sunny day." He praised, glancing at the tall window. It was a dark and grumbling, there was no doubt the snow would start again. "Ah, if only it really was."

Ivan lowered his glass. "It sounds like a song for a first love."

Regina was taken off-guard. "R-really?"

"Is that what you had in mind when you wrote it?" Ivan smiled lightly.

Regina lifted her violin in front on her blushing face. "N-no, actually… I-it's as Comrade General Chazov said…"

"But Comrade Colonel Braginski has a good interpretation too, now that I think about it," Chazov looked as if he was truly pondering, although his thought process was surely lacking a few steps. "It's a very gentle piece, Comrade Galantaya. Have you named it?"

"W-well actually… no…Um, sh-should I play more…?"

"Da! Go right ahead please," Chazov nodded enthusiastically, although all three men were finished with their food. Komorov was impatient. "We have a good deal of work to attend to-"

"It won't hurt, Vadim." Ivan snapped, not even bothering to look at him. His eyes were trained on the little violinist.

He watched Regina carefully as she began playing her next aria. This one seemed more stable, comforting. It seemed appropriate to listen to after a hearty meal and a rest by the fireplace. But he felt the violinist controlling the sound was much more fascinating.

One slip and she'd ruin the whole mood, the whole fantasy she had woven her audience in. Did she realize this? Was the little Latvian stressing at this very moment, forcing her body to remember and play out every note and movement so she wouldn't make a mistake?

If that was the case, Regina hardly showed it. Her expression was completely calm- no, confident. He'd never seen that sort of countenance on her before. It was as if he was looking at a different side of the girl, a completely different side.

Did this assurance only come out when she played? Or is it always there, hiding behind those long eyelashes and little face?

When Regina finished, she wasn't nearly as pleased and easygoing because all three men were staring at her with very different looks.

Chazov was the least concerning of the three because he continued his rapid clapping, still grinning as he had for the past half hour. "Excellent! Very calming, Miss Galante! I'd like Yekaterina to hear that!"

Komorov looked about as cheery as a cat that just got doused with freezing water. His glare wasn't completely directed at her; it seemed to be for everyone in general. His glasses only seemed to magnetize his critical gaze; did music bother him that much? He looked terrifying...!

Ivan had the most interesting expression, so she stayed on him for a few seconds. He had that peculiar sly smile, the one he wore when he found something secretly amusing. His normally dark and troubled eyes seemed lighter, but just a little bit.

Regina's cheeks reddened and she looked at a random spot on the table. Responding to Chazov, she muttered shyly, "Th-thank you. I-I'll play it for Miss Yekaterina s-soon."

"Oh! I just had an idea, Comrade Galantaya!" General Chazov stood up and left the table, and his two comrades followed. "Why don't you play at Yekaterina and I's wedding?"

Regina wasn't expecting that in the slightest. "J-Just me…!"

"Well, with other instrument players, of course! I can ask Comrade Braginskaya what she thinks. Comrade Colonel Ivan!" Chazov turned on his heels to his future brother-in-law, lively and giddy. He was obviously excited at the idea of being somehow connected to the Braginski family, and through their beautiful daughter, no less!

Ivan raised his eyebrows, just a bit, also put off by the older man's enthusiasm. "Yes, Comrade General Chazov?"

"Why don't we discuss the plans you showed to me last month, what were they again?"

"Classified, so please come with me to the office and we'll discuss it." Ivan responded easily. He glanced at Regina. "Thank you for the performance."

"Da! Thank you, comrade Galantaya!" General Chazov gave a swift wave as he followed Ivan out of the room. Komorov walked much faster, pushing Regina to the side harshly with his shoulder. She instinctively grasped her violin as she stumbled back against the wall.

When the door slammed shut two maids came out to clear the table. Felicja was one of them.

"Regina! You shouldn't have let him do that," She scolded, balancing the dishes expertly while the other woman wiped the table.

"Wh-who?" Regina feigned innocence.

"Don't be like that. That jerk, just knocking you off your feet."

"W-well, I wasn't kn-knocked…"

Felicja shook her head, dramatically sighing. "That wasn't an accident. He's rough with all the servants."

"E-even if it's n-not his h-house?" Regina couldn't believe that. Surely the Braginskis would do something if their servants were being mistreated…?

"They don't care! I'm just happy I usually work in the guest rooms, _away_ from him. When he's here, just stay away." With that, Felicja turned and briskly walked back to the kitchen.

Regina disliked the thought that Ivan kept such company. Then again, they didn't seem to like each other… The Latvian girl figured it wasn't her business, and left the dining hall to head for her room.

The next day, Regina received a surprise. In addition to her usual breakfast, Felicja had an abundance of dresses. Regina could hardly believe what was in front of her. Felicja had to have at least twenty different dresses to pick from.

"Wh-what is this f-for-?"

"The wedding!" Felicja cried, a look of mortification on her face. "I can't believe they haven't even talked to you about this before!"

"I-I didn't even know I was going-!" Technically, wasn't she classified as a servant? Unless Miss Braginskaya personally invited her…!

"The oldest Braginskaya wants you to attend, and she gathered together a few choices."

"A-A few?" She had never seen so many styles and materials. She'd been to a few weddings in the village, but the girls always wore traditional clothes. She seriously doubted Yekaterina and her guests would be doing that. Felicja looked through the pile, her bright green eyes excited and wide. "We need to try on every one! And then we need some matching shoes, and make-up!"

"I-I-!" She had no idea what shoes to wear or even how to do make-up! "R-really, Felicja, I don't think should…"

"But why not?" Felicja pouted like a child denied sugar. "It's not everyday you get to see an extravagant wedding, and look at all of these dresses!" She looked at them longingly. A little light bulb went off in the back of Regina's head. A light bulb that would make the awkwardness for Regina much less, and happiness for the maid much more...

"F-Felicja… Can you come with me?"

The maid bolted up instantly to a rigid standing position. "_What_?"

Regina frowned. "Why not?" Well, that was a dumb question. It was obvious the Polish maid was at one of the lowest social classes. But, maybe, they'd make an exception of Regina asked? "These could fit you too."

"But, I'm…" The girl was clearly in a heavy debate with herself. She wanted so bad to have a decent hair washing, to wear make-up and a dress without any rips or stains… To be pretty, like she was before this disgusting place. Regina was going to ask again, but the door flew open, nearly knocking Felicja forward. The maid scrambled to the middle of the room, and an all-too-familiar (and intimidating) face entered the room. Boris Demidov.

The stocky butler was less than pleased, and was directing most of his irritation at Felicja. Regina felt uneasy, as she'd never seen the man look at someone with such… hostility. In his thick voice, he said sourly, "Felicja."

"What?" Regina was taken aback by how sharp the maid's response was.

"Why is Miss Galantaya not in the process of getting ready for Miss Braginskaya's wedding?"

"We're still deciding on the dress." Felicja straightened herself, her body taking a bold stance. All the shyness and humbleness left as she added, with much sass, "It's an important decision. Do you mind?"

"I do, if it consumes our time." Boris said icily, taking a tarnished silver pocket watch from his waistcoat. He glanced at it, then snapped it shut with force. Regina flinched.

"Just leave me to my job, so we won't consume any more time."

Regina began shaking at the building tension in the room. Felicja might as well have spit on him, and by the look on his face, he was more than willing to strike her. The Latvian girl didn't want any fighting, and there was an unbearable and heavy silence following Felicja's retort.

Regina turned to Boris, whose features noticeably softened. Regina felt ice in her stomach but she stuttered out, "C-Can… Sh-she come w-with me?"

Felicja's gall completely left as she turned on her heels to Regina. Was this girl stupid? Well, no, but she actually came out and said it! "Regina-!"

Boris' eyebrows lifted a good inch off his face. He refused to look at the maid. "Her? Did I hear that correct, Miss Galantaya?"

"Y-yes. Pl… Please?" Regina clasped her hands together, staring down at her feet, too shy to pull off a puppy face (that probably would've succeeded). "She's h-helped m-m-me so much…"

The head butler's eyes swept across the room, taking in Miss Galantaya's tremors and _that_… maid's pale complexion and wide eyes. He opened his pocket watch once more, then placed it back in its snug spot. He contemplated. Wasn't Miss Braginskaya's wish to make Miss Galantaya as comfortable as possible, especially today? Even if it meant having to include… _that_…

"Make it quick." He said simply. "You both must be presentable within thirty minutes. I will return and escort you to a taxi, where we will be taken to the Catherine Garden." He left the room, leaving behind two stunned and gaping girls.

"D-did that fat old man really…?" Felicja stared at the door as it slammed shut.

"Y-y-y-yes…" Regina quavered, wondering where on earth she even got the courage to ask the intimidating man such a request. She hardly had a moment to think because a pair of skinny arms had wrapped around her and were squeezing so hard that her lungs were deflating.

"_Dzienkuje!_" She gasped, her normally firm voice wavering. "_Spasiba!_"

Felicja pulled away and rubbed at her eyes. Regina smiled and blushed, shaking her head. "W-we need to hurry… Da?"

"_Tak! Dalej!_" Felicja dove for the dresses and laid them out all over the bed. She began chattering quickly, switching between her native Polish and heavily-accented Russian. "All of these can fit us… Ah, shoes! I have some… Wear those new boots of yours… Regina!"

Regina smiled and laughed shyly. It was cute how her eyes lit up. "O-okay Felicja…"

Felicja whipped around. "Let's hurry! We only have thirty minutes!"

"Right! O-okay… Um… … H-how do I p-put this on…?"

"_O moj Boze…_" _Even if I can't stand this family… I'm glad she came here._

The girls were escorted to the most expensive of the muscle cars, right after the rest of the Braginski family had left in a massive limo. Regina brought her violin, just in case, although Felicja mentioned she really shouldn't be playing since the whole family could afford half the orchestras in Moscow. They sat in the back seat, smiling excitedly. Regina wondered what sort of lavish wedding the Braginskis planned (she'd never even heard of the Catherine Garden until now) and Felicja was beyond words at the fact she was in something other than her soiled uniform.

Felicja really was radiant, smiling as wide as her face would allow. The years of poor nutrition, tension and physical work seemed to completely leave her face and body. They washed her hair and brushed it until it was silky to the touch and as yellow as wheat. She wore a light pink dress that went down to her ankles, almost a little too long, and included a pair of white heels and a thick wool shawl.

Regina had, for once, tried to style her hair. They put it up in a simple bun with a little ribbon tied in. Her baby blue dress was to her knees and made of warm material. It felt a little strange, she didn't think she looked too good in it, but wearing dark red to an early spring wedding would be inappropriate, well, that was Felicja's argument. She shivered as she wrapped her own shawl tightly around her arms.

The car stopped and the door was opened for them. They were both unsteady- Felicja because she'd never been in heels before, and Regina because she was just normally clumsy. They climbed out of the car (Boris refused to help Felicja, so Regina didn't accept his hand) and were shocked at the park before them.

"It's so pretty! Even with the melting snow…" Felicja gasped, looking at the massive fountain and the statue that overlooked it. "Who is that?"

"L-Lady Catherine?" Regina assumed.

"Meh. Who cares? Where's the food?" The maid looked around anxiously. Regina giggled softly. "W-we n-n-need to at-attend the r-reception, first…?

Felicja's face fell. "Well, let's go!" She pulled up her dress an inch or two and awkwardly stomped to the flowered arches, where all the guests were being greeted. And the young violinist was just about to join her friend, but a harsh voice completely stopped her.

"Helping a girl like that, I wonder what's going through your mind, little Miss Galantaya."

Her blood froze, and Regina suddenly felt something odd inside her. A heated feeling, but it wasn't pleasant. She turned her head, furrowing her brow. "B-because…She's my friend."

Boris was mildly surprised. He hadn't seen that look since the night he brought her to the Braginski estate. He turned back to the car, muttering to himself, "She's been causing trouble, just like her sister."

"What sister?" Regina turned completely to look at him. He was much taller than her.

"...That color doesn't suit you." Boris climbed into the car and slowly drove away.

The small girl felt the feeling get stronger, a heat that made her stomach sick. Why did that man hate Felicja so much? What had she done to him, to anyone? She worked hard, unlike that fat jerk who just walked around, breathing down the servants' necks and scaring them half to death-

"Regina!" Felicja called her from the beautiful arch. "Hurry! We're late, the music is starting!"

"O-oh no-!" The bitterness completely melted as the wedding bells tolled and soft classical music played. She didn't want to miss a second. Together, they tripped over heels and dresses trying to get to the seats.

Yekaterina Braginskaya, soon to be Chazovaya, was breathtaking. Her dress, tight-fitting around her upper body but flowing everywhere else, trailed behind her. Younger children held her train as she elegantly walked down the light blue carpet. The dress was an unnatural stark white, whiter and cleaner than the snow around them and the clouds in the sky. Her veil covered the front of her face, and her long hair was, for the first time in many years, not put up in anyway. It flowed free to her waist and little sunflowers were woven in. The only jewelry she wore was a silver locket and a pearl bracelet. The latter was her mother's, but no one knew where the locket came from.

She seemed ethereal. She was looking straight ahead, posture firm, but it was clear she wasn't focusing on the grinning Chazov at the altar. She wasn't hearing her mother crying happily, or her brother softly grinding his teeth as he stood by her husband. Yekaterina was drifting off into her own world, trying to escape this one.

Her father was leading her to her future husband. He was dressed in his typical military attire, looking as stern and irritable as he was everyday. Regina and Felicja heard whispers float through the guests. Couldn't he have bothered to dress up? Why does he look so angry, this is his oldest daughter's wedding! Miss Braginskaya doesn't look happy either…

General Braginski stiffly handed his daughter to Chazov. The man took her hand eagerly and smiled widely. Yekaterina couldn't downright frown, so she slowly moved the corners of her lips upward. A façade, but it kept the men happy.

Yekaterina glanced at her father and brother. They hardly seemed to notice each other. Her brother looked stoic on the outside, but she knew those eyes. They were full of pity and emptiness. She couldn't look at her father for more than a few seconds. His eyes had nothing good to say to her. Toris, the poor fool, looked dwarfed and powerless beside the tall men. He had a small smile of encouragement, but his eyes had nothing but fear. For her, or her future?

She heard her mother sniffling behind her. At least someone was happy, but not for Yekaterina. The marriage and all its preparation was just so her mother could one-up her vulture friends. She couldn't read her mother's eyes, because they were fake.

Someone else was crying, but it was subdued, quiet. This girl was genuinely trying to keep her tears to herself, because she didn't want to upset her sister.

The only one who truly cried because she cared, the only one in this family who didn't try to be something she wasn't. Her eyes were never fake or empty… They always had emotion.

_I know you don't think this…_ Yekaterina inhaled gently, feeling her eyelashes become heavy with cold tears. She couldn't hear the priest. _But, going to that asylum… You escaped, Natalya._

_Something I've been too afraid to do._

There had to be at least three hundred people weaving in and out of the gardens, socializing and eating. Every older man was in a decorated military uniform with a beautiful woman hanging off his arm, and every older woman was covered in diamonds, smoking and flirting with the younger officers. Regina felt terribly out of place, especially since Felicja had gone off to get the food and they'd lost sight of each other.

Felicja quickly ate the brightly-colored sweets she held and licked her fingers, a very unladylike gesture that had some of the guests frowning in disapproval. Wow! I've cooked some of these things, but I never imagined I'd be eating them… She mentally squealed like a little girl, so happy that she could hardly contain it. She felt just like Cinderella, from rags to royalty, dressed up for a ball. It was a silly comparison, but there was no other way to describe it. No cleaning, washing or getting bossed around by an insulting pig.

She was right in the middle of getting herself a bowl of heavy soup. She wasn't even thinking about him, even though it was incredibly possible he'd be here… He certainly would, he was practically Lady Braginskaya's adopted son ...

"_Felicja_? Is that you-?"

At the sound of the Lithuanian-heavy accent, she nearly coughed up the soup.

"T-Toris!" Felicja whipped around, her face bright red, as if she'd been caught in the middle of a horrible crime. It seemed he was the only one who recognized her without her usual dirt and grunge. He was completely taken aback by the sudden change. "I… Wow, this is amazing! How…?"

"Regina," Felicja blushed, shyly standing close to him.

"Regina?" He repeated, wondering how in the world she managed to convince anyone in that depressing mansion to allow a maid to go to one of the grandest weddings in the year. He was undoubtedly thankful, as he'd never seen Felicja so beautiful.

"Wh-what? God Toris, you're staring," Felicja blushed deeper, but a grin had crept up. "P-people are going to think you're some sort of ... Staring person."

Toris laughed and took her hand. "I'm sorry. Why don't we dance?"

"I don't know how," Felicja said, but if it meant hand-holding, she could try.

"I'll show you, please? It's easy to learn."

"Hm, fine, but I'm trying all of that afterwards." Felicja pointed at the largest of the banquets tables, where a large pig and turkey was laid out. She turned back to him and frowned. "_Yes_, Toris, _all of it_! Don't give me that look!"

Regina wanted to speak with Yekaterina- she looked so melancholy, and her family was hardly any better. Regina was upset with Ivan for not even giving her a grin- sure, that'd be a little strange for his character, but what about her happiness? Didn't he adore his older sister? But Regina knew it'd be impossible to talk to anyone of the family. They retreated to a private part of the party, being chatted up by the highest members of society.

The young girl wandered aimlessly, not in the mood for indulging in the mass amounts of food. Even though there was plenty and it was probably delicious, she wasn't in the mood for eating. Wasn't she daydreaming of Miss Braginskaya's wedding just months before? What changed? Was Yekaterina upset with her husband? He was a bit air-headed, but malicious…

She was pondering deeply without realizing it. She almost jumped out of her shoes when General Chazov called her in his booming voice.

"Comrade Galantaya! There you are!" He was laughing loudly, a drink swinging in his hand. "Come over here!"

She reluctantly walked to the gazebo, where the Braginski family and all their influential friends were sitting. She immediately felt uncomfortable, because the thick tension radiating off the family was suffocating. Why did no one else notice?

Because it wasn't proper social etiquette for Chazov to throw his arm around or hold hands with his wife, he settled for sitting a little too close to her. Ivan seemed very bothered about this, but he just stared stiffly at his drink. His father was doing the same. Mrs. Braginskaya was still dapping her eyes and smiling widely at all her friends. Yekaterina had lightened up considerably when she saw Regina, and was now allowing the smallest of smiles. Regina smiled back at her, hoping she could get a chance to talk to her afterwards.

Regina's gaze settled to a girl who sat very close to Ivan. She was probably just a little older than Regina. She was very attractive, but looked… scared. Her eyes were slowly looking at Yekaterina and Chazov, darting at General Braginski, settling on Ivan, then starting over again. She couldn't have been one of the social friends because of her elegant dress, and how she looked remarkably like Ivan and Yekaterina. Was she a cousin, or… another sibling? No- she was familiar ...

Ah, wasn't she the other sister, the one Regina had seen the first time she met the Braginskis? The one who was practically attached to Colonel Braginski…

Again, she was pondering too much so Chazov's loud voice startled her. "Comrade Galantaya, do you remember the song you played a few days ago, when Comrade Colonel Komorov, Comrade Colonel Braginski and I were having breakfast? The song you wrote yourself?"

"O-Oh yes, I-I do…"

"Could you please play it for Yekaterina?" He grinned down at his wife. Yekaterina was surprised Chazov liked classical music. She said softly, "You've played for him…?"

"Y-Yes, s-something I wrote," Regina flushed lightly. She really didn't like being put on such a spot, especially since Mrs. Braginskaya was giving her such a look.

"Something she wrote? Really, there's a full orchestra playing traditional wedding songs." She chided.

"But you really must hear this, Mrs. Braginskaya! This song makes me very cheery."

"You don't need any more cheer, General Chazov," One of the women tittered, referring to his four glasses of vodka. He was pouring himself a fifth right when she said that.

He took a deep drink and protested, "I mean it, I thought-!"

"Please play it," Yekaterina gently said to Regina. That seemed to settle it, as everyone's talking died down a little. The bride was eager to hear new work, as she hadn't heard an original work in quite a while. Her father's restriction to theatres caused that.

She readied her violin and played the comforting song. Now that she thought about it, was the perfect thing to play. It was a song about security and a homey life, so she hoped Yekaterina would feel less saddened and more hopeful. The song was her way of comforting the young bride.

When it was over, Chazov clapped the wildest. Yekaterina joined him (although her's was much softer), and a few of the wealthy ladies politely did the same. Regina gave them a small bow and Chazov turned to Yekaterina. "Did you like it? I got a very good feeling from that song."

She nodded and smiled at Regina. "Da. Thank you, Miss Galantaya."

It was short but sincere, and that lifted Regina's spirits considerably. "Y-You're welcome…"

"My, wasn't that too… dull?" Mrs. Braginskaya's sharp voice cut through the relaxed atmosphere. "Comrade General Chazov, I was expecting something more ... lively."

"But my lady, doesn't it remind you of home and family? That's why I like it!"

"She should follow the music the State Orchestra performs…"

The stuffy complaints continued until she was sharply quieted by General Braginski, who then took his leave. It was hard not to see Ivan glare after him, or the girl by his side flinch. Mrs. Braginskaya just huffed and pointed to Regina. "Little girl, why don't you go play with the orchestra?" She briskly returned to chattering with her friends.

Regina nodded and quickly scampered off, not wanting to leave but terrified of making the woman upset.

General Chazov turned to Yekaterina with concern. "Katyusha, don't look so upset! Listen, I've already planned how you can move into my house…"

The wedding party began to dwindle as sunset drew nearer. While the day was pleasant and mild, everyone was predicting a bitterly cold night. They slowly began going home, always stopping by the gazebo to give the family well wishes and gifts.

Regina was looking everywhere for Felicja. She was almost worried that Boris had dragged her off, but he found Regina first.

"Miss Galantaya, the family will be returning shortly. Why don't we go now?"

"O-Okay. Wh-where's Felicja?"

"She's waiting for you in the car. Come," He offered his arm, but she ignored it. She was still bothered as to why he disliked the Polish maid. He ignored her iciness and helped her into the bulky car.

He quickly shooed Regina to her room and Felicja out of her finery. She was noticeably deflated, but still beaming with a flushed face. Regina felt there was a reason she was so happy, unless she just really liked weddings?

"Felicja, d-did you h-have fun?" The two girls were removing their dresses and make-up. Regina was sleepy, but she wanted to speak to Yekaterina before she left for Chazov's estate, which was all the way in Moscow.

"Of course!" Felicja grinned. "There was so much food! Did you try that strange black licorice? And the little pastries, the ones with the nuts?"

"I-I didn't eat much, actually," Regina began changing into her nightgown.

"Oh right, you were performing for the family. How did it go?"

"A-as usual…" Mrs. Braginskaya's irritable comments were ringing in the little Latvian's head. She frowned inwardly and slipped on her socks. They were quiet for a few minutes as she put up her clothes. Regina turned to her friend and was surprised to see her in a new uniform.

"When did you g-get that?" She asked. It was the same as the other servants, but clean and crisp, as if it had just been made.

Felicja flushed and wished she had put it on in her own room. "O-Oh, well… Mister Lorinaitis gave it to me."

"Toris?" Regina smiled. "H-he's nice. I-I saw him at the wedding."

"…I did too."

They were in silence once more. Again, they waited a few minutes before speaking.

"Regina, where will you go now?" Felicja's question had some worry to it.

Regina cocked her head slightly. "Wh-what do you m-mean?"

"Miss Braginskaya- er, I guess Mrs. Chazovaya, is going away with her husband. Are you going to follow her? I mean, you were supposed to be her violinist. Will you have to follow her?"

The girl's heart sank at that. She hadn't given it any thought. Logically, yes, she would have to go with Yekaterina. Regina liked the young woman a lot, and although she had made a friendship with Felicja and grown fond of the house, she missed her family. The idea of moving to a different house other than her own… She didn't think she'd be able to do it. She didn't have a say in the matter, anyway…

"Will… Will they make me?"

Felicja muttered crossly. "Probably. Prisoners like us, we have no freedom here."

"_Two weeks maximum, Katyusha. You're my daughter, but you should be with your husband."_

Two weeks. Well, she shouldn't have expected any different. Chazov was eager to show off his trophy wife to his family, and they were more than willing to receive her. That was more than 300 miles from home, but then again, why was she so eager to stay? Her father still had her on strict lockdown; she hadn't seen a theatre entrance in months. Her mother was her typical self-centered self…

It wasn't because Natalya was here, although Yekaterina was overjoyed to see her sister after so many months.

"Miss Br… Ah, Mrs. Ch-Chazovaya?"

Ah, that must've been it. Miss Galantaya… Yekaterina felt guilty for ever mentioning wanting a private musician to her brother. She should've known he'd carry it out; he'd do anything for her. Yekaterina was slowly piecing together how much she hurt Regina, forcing her away from her family like that. She felt terrible, to say the very least.

"…. Hello, Miss Galantaya." Yekaterina sat on the small sofa in her room. Of course, it was decorated, spacious and clean. Where was Regina staying? She felt too ashamed to ask.

The young girl walked in timidly. She was in her nightgown; she was probably going to go to bed soon. The gown was twice her size and made the Latvian look like a little orphan child, with her skinny legs and big eyes. They reminded her so much of Natalya's… Even if their hue and shape was completely different. Yekaterina patted her eyes with her handkerchief to catch the tears.

"M-Mrs. Chazovaya…"

"Please… Yekaterina."

"Y-Yekaterina… Why are …. I-I mean… Why don't you want to leave?"

The woman covered her face with her handkerchief. Her throat and chest squeezed at her with all their might, trying to force out all the tears she'd held in all day.

"Miss Yekaterina, do you want to be married?" She asked genuinely; innocently.

The cries came out, strangled and rough. "_I-I_ _don't!_"

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mascara and eyeliner was ruined, stinging her eyes, but she just roughly wiped it off. "I don't know what to expect-! I don't know this man!"

Pale arms wrapped around Yekaterina's broad shoulders. "S-so… it was arranged?" That was still common in Regina's village, amongst the more conservative families. She should've expected the high-class families did it too, to strengthen political or economic ties.

"Da, da… Even though my dear brother took my feelings into consideration…" She paused for a while to strengthen her shaky voice. "I-I can't… Will I be a good wife to someone I don't even love? A-and my poor sister, I've nearly abandoned her!"

Yekaterina's words and tears spilled simultaneously, marring the rest of her woes. Regina began shaking, completely lost as to what to do. "M-Miss … Well…" How was she supposed to respond? She didn't have the slightest clue of …

Regina looked at the new bride. She was supposed to be floating in joy, radiating happiness. She was supposed to be showing off her ring, smiling so much her cheeks hurt. She was supposed to be dancing and laughing with her new husband. Regina had heard the new brides say it so many times. "I'm so happy! This is the best time of my life!"

But she was sitting on a cold windowsill, holding her head, heaving out tears. It seemed like she was shrinking from a large, friendly person to a little child. Yekaterina squeezed her eyes shut and fresh tears were forced out. Her thoughts were racing…

_I don't think I can love Chazov…_

_I wish I could've helped Natalya…_

_Why couldn't I help her? Why?_

_Ivan could! She listened to him!_

_But, Ivan is so different now… He's so different…_

"He… He's changed…" She mumbled into her fingers.

Regina sat by her and firmly took her hands. She scolded herself for just standing there and staring. She hated seeing someone so kind being forced into such a situation. Even if Regina didn't know all the details…

"Miss Yekaterina, I … I don't know a lot about marriage. But I know family love… a-and, I can see how much you love Comrade Colonel Braginski and your sister. You're their big sister. You'd protect them from anything."

Yekaterina nodded rapidly and squeezed her hands. "Y-yes, completely! I love them both, so, so much!"

"I love my brother too. And he always told me, even if something happens to our parents, he'll always be there for me. And I'd to the same. S-so… I guess, I'm saying… Even if you don't like Chazov now, you still have your brother and sister's love."

Regina felt her hands losing circulation. Yekaterina's lip wobbled, "B-but, when she was sick, I couldn't help her-!"

_Sick? Is that why her sister has been gone? _"That doesn't mean you don't love her! When I was sick, my mother always took care of me. She'd make the soup, prepare the medicine… But my father and brother helped in other ways, too. Like… Eduard would go through snow just to go to the store for blankets. And father would … Miss?"

Yekaterina had completely let go her hands. Her sniffling and heaving stopped, she was silent… And she was gazing down at the ground, in deep thought… Was she remembering something?

"_Little Vanya, is she…?" Yekaterina looked nervously at the closed double door._

"_Um… I think so. I guess." He was so cute back then. He was skinny for his age, and his hair was always a tousled mess. It'd drive their mother crazy how easily it messed up. It was a little too long, and it framed his pudgy face._

_His face that was covered in bruises…_

"_Vanya, why do you let her do that?" Yekaterina hated her sister's screams, but it was worse when she settled down and Ivan came out of the room. She didn't mean to hurt him, and she never directly hit him, but she _did_ throw objects everywhere._

_It never bothered him, at least, he never said so. He picked up the toy sword he left lying on the ground. "Nataha doesn't mean to."_

"_D-da, but… Oh, goodness…" She brought a little handkerchief to a particularly dark bruise. He winced and tried to squirm away. "Vanya… It hurts me to see you like this."_

"_It hurts me when she's like that." He retorted. Yekaterina withdrew her arm and patted her eyes with the handkerchief. He shouldn't be like that. She is the oldest! She should be the one dealing with Natalya, not a nine year old boy!_

_Of course, their mother is the one who should be in that room… She was never around when Natalya had an 'incident'._

_Ivan frowned and tugged lightly at Yekaterina's dress. "Sister?"_

"_I-I'm sorry," Yekaterina forced a smile and put away the handkerchief. _

_He tugged again. "Don't do that, Katyusha."_

"_Hm?"_

"_Look like that… Sad. This doesn't bother me. I _want_ to help Nataha."_

"_But… Vanya…"_

"_I love Nataha, so I want to help. And I love you too, so don't smile when your eyes are so sad. It's okay to cry."_

Yekaterina snapped out of her daydream. She blinked away the last of her tears.

"Thank you… Regina."

The girl was patiently waiting. She nodded shyly. "No, it's fine. I-I want to make sure you're alright."

"Well… I will have to adjust to this… marriage." She sighed deeply. "I'm the oldest, but… I've always been such a crybaby."

Yekaterina turned to Regina and swiftly held the little girl's shoulders. Regina let out a little peep. "Ah! Y-Yes?"

"Regina, please, tell me if I can do anything for you! Not just because of this, but… I've realized I've kept you from your family."

Regina tensed. "I-I… Well…" _It's true, even though I don't blame you…_

"Just tell me when you want to go back. Even if it's tomorrow, please, I understand," Yekaterina was beginning to cry again. "I've been unfair to you." She removed her hands, realizing she was probably being intimidating.

_Back home, to Eduard and my parents… _Their faces were vivid in her head, how happy her mother and father would be. Eduard would be so relieved…

But at the same time, she saw Yekaterina's face. Her eyes were hurting, she was trying to smile. She thought of the arranged marriage, her sick sister… And Regina thought of Ivan. He was hiding something behind his uncaring demeanor. He could be hurting as much as Yekaterina.

Regina nodded. "Thank you very much, Yekaterina."

Yekaterina hugged her, feeling relief and comfort wash over her. "You're welcome, Regina." _Ivan, years ago, you told me to be honest with myself. I will try. _

Regina hugged her back tightly. _Mother, Father, Eduard… I'm so sorry, I can't leave just yet._

_Little Vanya, I want you to be more honest with me too. Your eyes... You are so troubled..._

_Ivan… I think… I'd like to help you._

_

* * *

_

Extra long chapter, mostly because there's a lot to say and if I broke it in two chapters y'all would have to wait for two slow updates! - And I update like a slug to begin with, so I won't put y'all through extra suffering. I really admire authors that can chug out great chapters on a weekly basis!

Thanks bucket loads for all the favorites and reviews, and hanging in there while I write this! As usual, give me suggestions, things you'd like to see, or any concerns and critiques! I've already got the general plot for the next two-three chapters planned out, and a big, FAT plot bunny for future ones (this is going to be such a long series! Eeek!), so message me anytime with ideas!

Oh yes..~ A certain reviewer suggested a certain Canadian knight-in-shining-armor should save Yekaterina from her marriage. So! Would you guys like me to introduce this mysterious Canadian, or should Yekaterina stay marriaged to Chazov? It's all up to y'all! I'm fine either way!


	8. Chapter 8

Regina never understood the saying, 'cutting tension with a knife'. She'd be in rather awkward and strange situations at the Braginski manor, but never anything with a heavy and bitter atmosphere. This completely changed a few days after the wedding.

She entered the dining room, ready for her usual duty of playing for the family during breakfast. The audience was quite small today, but she had two special guests: One she rarely played for, and one she never played for - General Braginski and his youngest daughter. She planned on playing the songs she knew completely by heart, so there'd be no chance of her messing up.

Yekaterina, Ivan and Mrs. Braginskaya were also there. She noticed how eerily silent it was. It was strange for Mrs. Braginskaya to be quiet, especially now, a perfect time to fawn over the fact one daughter was married and the other returned from a long hiatus. Obviously, something happened. Nevertheless, Regina held her violin to her shoulder and began to play…

"How did you get her released?"

Regina flinched and stopped the music quickly, though it had hardly begun. She and everyone at the table looked at General Braginski. His face was twisted in anger, and fear shot through her small chest. She'd never seen such a look.

Mrs. Braginskaya darted her eyes away while her mouth moved rigidly. "She'll be staying with us. I hired a personal doctor."

"_How did you get her out-?" _The massive man stood so fast that his chair fell to the ground with a loud slam and the table rattled, knocking over the china cups. Natalya cried out and held onto her sister, Regina nearly dropped her violin. Mrs. Braginskaya stayed steady, keeping her eyes to the ruined china.

General Braginski's wrinkled in disgusted anger; his eyes were a burning monster. His voice twisted into a horrible tone as he bellowed, _"She will never stay here-!"_

Regina's breath stopped and her mind froze. He was going to hit her; he was going to really beat her! Mrs. Braginskaya shielded her face and he was readying a fist…

Ivan had been staying stone still the past minute, but he shot up. "Stop!" He held tightly on the older man's wrist, stopping it just in time. Natalya and Yekaterina clung to each other and wept while Mrs. Braginskaya sunk back in her chair. She was shaking and breathing shallowly, but her face expressed chilling calm.

Ivan's hand was steady, his eyes were not. They were shaky and hesitant, something Regina thought Ivan never had.

The scene passed like lighting before the violinists' eyes, but now time decided to slow itself. The dining room was so quiet, despite the girls' crying and the heavy breathing of both the Braginski parents…

Only a few seconds passed. General Braginski tore his wrist from Ivan's grasp and shoved him away. Ivan allowed himself to be pushed back a good foot or two. The old man stormed for the entrance, and Regina bolted out of his way. She went for the darkest corner of the dining room, clutching her violin to her chest.

The door slammed shut, and everybody flinched. Natalya instantly stopped her crying, but Yekaterina rocked her back and forth nonetheless, half in comfort and half in trying to quiet her. In the distance, they heard several more doors slam. Ivan went after him, breaking into a full sprint. What was he trying to do?

Regina shivered and felt sick, ready to heave up her breakfast. What just happened… that definitely wasn't the first time. The whole family reacted too strongly, it was almost anticipated… She bit her lip and squeezed her violin in unease. There were some things Yekaterina hadn't told her…

Mrs. Braginskaya turned away from her daughters, to the door at the back of the dining room. "What the hell are you waiting for? Clean up this mess!" She barked harshly.

The startled servants nearly toppled over themselves as they came into the dining room. They were anxiously eavesdropping behind the door. The broken chair was taken away, the tea stains were being removed from the tablecloth. Within seconds, they began to remove all evidence of had what just taken place.

The powerful woman watched them like a vulture for a few seconds, her face going from stony calm to hissing anger She turned on her heels to Regina. "_You!_"

Regina gasped and instantly, tears sprang to her eyes. She could hardly get a word out, as Mrs. Braginskaya hissed, "Get _out_, you filthy…!"

The woman's racial slur went unheard as she frightfully bolted from the room. Dashing down the hallway, racing up the stairs so fast she nearly fell down them. She wasn't even thinking of where she was going – somehow, she found the way to her door.

Regina skidded into it and locked her door for the first time (she really never noticed the lock until now). She realized she was shaking so hard that her teeth were clattering against each other. Her stomach was churning and seething. She sighed,

"I…I-I need to… sit…" She slumped onto her bed, not even noticing she was still holding the violin. She carefully put it aside and curled up.

Regina closed her eyes and tried to brush the shock away. Why was she so frightened? Why were _they_ so frightening- General and Mrs. Braginskaya? How long did Yekaterina, Ivan and their sister have to deal with… that?

_Ah… Where did Ivan run to…? Did he really go after his father…?  
_

Regina turned her head and glanced out the window. Snow had fallen, and the manor grounds were a sleek and pure white. Completely undisturbed. She could see the gazebo…

"I-I… I'll go walk..." She threw on her maroon coat, shiny boots and gloves. She'd probably regret not putting on more layers, but she _needed_ to get out. She was already far from the dining room, and she needed to get farther.

She sped walk down the hall, then stopped in her tracks right outside Colonel Ivan's office- The door was completely ajar-

_CRASH!_

Regina quickly covered her mouth to stifle her yelp. Her shaking returned and the storm in her stomach got worse. What was that?

General Braginski came out and threw the door shut, but he was so rough that it bounced right off the hinges, causing a vibrating ring throughout the halls. He didn't notice Regina as he went in the opposite direction, down the stairs.

She waited until he was at the last step, but her feet felt like lead. His eyes had that same dangerous expression. Did Ivan seriously try to talk sense into him…?

_Wh-what did he do…? _Regina ran into the office.

"C-Comrade Colonel Braginski-!" She was only frozen in the doorway for only a moment. She crouched down to his side, but he was beginning (or attempting to) pull himself up. "Are you hurt somewhere? Colonel… Oh…"

Ivan lifted himself completely, and beneath him was a bent rusted stand. Regina wondered what in the world it was, when she saw a cracked globe on the other side of the room…

Did his father _throw_ him against the globe stand?

Regina grabbed his arm and tried as best as she could to get him standing straight. Ivan was trying, but he was noticeably hunched over. She panicked; he _was_ thrown against that old piece of metal! She tried to get a look at him, to see if he had any head injuries, but he was staring straight at the ground. Why wouldn't he look at her?

"C-Colonel…" Regina's voice was shaky. "A-Are you… Wh-where, I-I mean… Please…" She didn't know what she was saying, anyway. She could see a large bruise was forming on the side of his face.

Finally, Ivan turned to her, but he was looking straight down at her boots and coat "Are you going somewhere?"

"Going…? O-Oh! Yes…Outside…"

"I will go with you." He winced for just a moment and faltered towards the door. Regina quickly let go of his arm and stood directly in front of him. She looked directly up at him, although he still avoided her eye contact. She could see a small cut on the other side of his face.

"C-Colonel Braginski…" Regina was surprised at her own boldness, but she continued. "I don't think you should be walking. I-I mean, your back, and your face-"

He had the same emotionless, cold expression as his mother. An attempt to tie down and control the fear, anger and distress that they should have expected and been used to by now. He did not want to deal with the small girl before him, whose eyes had so much concern. She didn't even know him, why did she have so much worry? He'd never been worried about…

"I want to leave this house." Ivan brushed passed her.

Strange, strange. Everything the little Latvian did was strange. She called after him and was at his side. She tried to pull him onto the gravel path, but he insisted on the snow. Ivan hated snow; he didn't know why he was walking in it.

Then again, a six inches wasn't hard to walk through, even with his limp. He didn't have a clue where he was going or how far he planned to go, he just kept walking…Then he remembered Regina.

"Colonel Braginski! W-Wait!" She said breathlessly. She was awkwardly waddling through the snow, her boots and skinny legs hardly a match for the thick snow. He stopped and she caught up to him, panting. "Ha… Th-thank you…"

"You should have stayed behind, little Regina."

He didn't know if she was frowning at the nickname or his cold tone. "N-no… I don't want you to stay out here all night."

"Who said I would?"

"I-I saw you. That one night…"

"When I was with Komorov on the gazebo?" Ivan seemed amused. Regina was trying to be serious, although she wondered if he ever took her seriously. "Yes. You could get sick quite easily. I… Wouldn't that upset your mother?"

"All the more reason to do it, da?" Now he was smirking. "I've never been sick before."

"That's surprising."

"You don't believe me."

"Everyone gets sick," Regina was thankful he had slowed his pace for her. They were at the gazebo now, and it was also covered. The roof looked ready to collapse from the weight. She was anxious about entering it but Ivan sat right on one of the frozen benches. She winced from imagining how cold it was. He thought she was grimacing from the cold, and found it cute, considering how thick her velvet coat was.

"Little Regina, I'm assuming you're the type to be in bed all day from a little cold?" He teased. Regina quickly shot back, "N-No! I've got good health too!"- Although his statement was true.

"Why don't you sit, little Regina?"

"H-How can you handle that? Please don't sit there…"

"I'm wearing a coat, da? I will be fine."

"You say that, but you're still having difficulty with your back…"

"Whose car is that?" Ivan looked down at the driveway.

"Who-? What?" Regina glanced to where he was looking. A familiar black muscle car was lugging its way through the sludgy ice on the street and driving up to the house. It was Boris' car, the same one he drove her in. "Doesn't he always drive that car?" She was unconcerned. "Although I didn't see him leave…"

"That is not one of our cars."

"So, a guest…?" Ivan clumsily stood up, ignoring his injury, and began following the car up the driveway. His calmness quickly left. "I do not want any guests today. If it is that _mudak_ Komorov…"

The taxi driver climbed out and began unloading the trunk, just two small suitcases. The two stood rather awkwardly, staring without realizing it, but all they really wanted was to know who their guest was…

"M-My God!"

A flurry of maroon swept past Ivan, and he had to blink twice and give his brain a second to register that the little Latvian, with her shaking boots and tiny frame, just flew right past him. She bounded across the lawn, disrupting the virgin snow, and threw herself into the arms of the guest.

Ivan didn't see his face, but he wasn't looking at it. He was watching Regina knock the wind out of the man, right into his arms…

Hmm. Regina running into another man's arms. That sentence bothered Ivan.

She was shaking now, and the man managed to keep himself from falling. His eyes were as wide at her's, and he could hardly speak. He looked completely paralyzed with surprise; he'd yet to hug her back. He mouthed something, most likely her name.

Regina pulled away from him. He was wearing a thin cotton jacket and his pale face meant he was quite cold. She was chattering something loudly, something like, 'I can't believe you're here!' and 'How did you find this place?'

He must've been from her village. Didn't Boris say she wasn't allowed any contact with them? And how did he get here? Not a very unsuspecting entrance. The man was still struggling to handle his surprise, and wanted to respond, when he looked up and noticed Ivan.

When the man's face got even paler, Ivan smiled cheekily and gave a half-hearted wave. Regina turned back to him and said, "Oh, let me introduce you…"

She dragged the man through the snow, soaking his shoes and pants. He was a good foot taller than her (although nearly everyone was), and lanky, just like she had been.

"Comrade Colonel Braginski, this is my older brother, Eduard Galante. Eduard, this is who I'm… Well, his mother employed me."

"Ah, i-is that so…" Eduard's skin prickled despite the cold. So this man who gave the order to kidnap Regina. Eduard couldn't hide his scowl, but he attempted to mute it. Suddenly the 6-foot-two Russian in the dark uniform didn't seem so intimidating… although that stare was unnerving.

"How nice to meet you." Ivan straightened up, despite the burning of his injury. He was her brother, nothing more, but he wasn't comforted. Ivan returned his steady glare, but with a wide smile. "What business do you have here?"

"Yes!" Regina turned on Eduard quickly, still holding his arm in a vice grip. "Why have you come?" She was worried. If he found out where she was and just decided to pay a visit, she had a sickening premonition that Boris would hunt her down.

He broke off his glare for just a moment to look down her. "R-Right, well…"

Ivan interrupted. "The doctor, da?"

Eduard flinched and snapped his head up, queuing another tug-of-war glare between them. Regina repeated, "The doctor? For who?"

"Miss Natalya Braginskaya. Mind yourself, Comrade Galantaya." Boris appeared behind them, apparently just arriving from the house. "Why don't we all come in before someone catches a cold?"

Regina nodded and clinged to Eduard, disliking the eerie air the man had about him. Eduard noticed this, and recognized him as the man who took her in the first place. He protectively stayed close to Regina as they went in, and Ivan took a good note on this. _Does he think he is protecting her? Is he trying to make up for lost time?_

Mrs. Braginskaya greeted Eduard with enthusiasm. "Oh, thank goodness you are here! I can rest easy now. Eduard Galante, da?"

"Y-Yes. Thank you for employing me." Eduard said, trying not to look too taken aback by the massive house. Regina had stepped away from him, and Ivan made a point to step closer to her.

"No, no, I must thank you. I'm quite happy I could get ahold of you; I can trust no one in this city- well that is something else entirely. My lovely daughter is upstairs, I will introduce you immediately." In the midst of her speed talking, she turned on her heels and sped up the spiraling stairs. Eduard kept up, nodding and trying to get a word in. Regina followed in an eager gait; she was dazzled that her brother was right in front of her when she'd been wishing for him all these months. She felt that if he left her sight for a moment, it'd be a dream. Ivan silently followed her, although she honestly did not notice.

"Natalya is in her room, as always. I already have her diet, schedule, current health records; I expect you to go over them and give me your opinions. But not too much resting! She'll turn into a skeleton. The clinic she was in before…"

He managed to mumble in a few "Yes ma'am", but for the most part, her chatter silenced him until they reached Natalya's room. Her mother knocked but hardly waited for an answer, and barged in, Eduard in tow, Regina right behind him and Ivan a few paces behind her. Natalya was taken off-guard with all the people and hid whatever she was working on under her chair.

"M-Mother, what is this…?" She asked meekly.

"Oh, the best luck has just befallen us, my sweet Nataha. That personal doctor I mentioned has come. You can stay after all!"

Natalya's face notably fell. "I-I… can?" Regina recalled the morning's events, and her heart skipped. Had that mess been completely forgotten?

Mrs. Braginskaya went up to her daughter and knelt to her. "Nataha, you are my daughter, I never want you to leave me again. With a doctor here, you will never need to go anywhere for- well- treatment."

Natalya looked down at her hands and wrung them. "So… I won't be sent back…?"

"Nyet, nyet, nyet!" Her mother smiled wide, beaming brighter than the sun. She gestured Eduard to her side, and said, "His name is Dr. Galante. He specializes in- your sickness."

_I never said that, I don't even know what she has… _Eduard blushed lightly at the title 'doctor'. He straightened up and nodded a sort of greeting, which Natalya returned with equal shyness. While her mother chattered on, he studied Natalya's appearance. _She's rather pale, but so is Regina. She doesn't look physically sick. But it's not like I have the instruments to really investigate…_

As if reading his mind, Natalya's mother said, "I will spare no expense. Just tell me what you need to improve her health, and I will personally see it bought."

Eduard was taken aback, but was grateful. "Thank you very much. That will be a big help."

"Please examine her tomorrow morning, after her breakfast, naturally. Boris! Escort Dr. Galante to the room I specified."

Now it was Eduard's turn to let his face fall. He had a whole new genre of glare for the butler, though the man pretended not to notice. "Follow me, it is not far," Boris said easily, but before he left the room, he turned to Regina. "I suggest you retire to your room as well."

Regina bit her lip. "Will I… See him tomorrow?"

"I should hope so; Mrs. Braginskaya relies on him a great deal."

Regina lit up and exclaimed, "I'll see you at breakfast then, Eduard!" He couldn't help but soften his glare and try to smile back. She looked healthier; she'd obviously gained some weight. And those clothes- they certainly weren't her's, and he was positive they weren't paying her that well- if at all. At least they weren't starving her, but he wouldn't give his entire approval yet. "Take care, Regina."

As the three left, the remaining three stayed in Natalya's room for a few more moments. Mrs. Braginskaya seemed to just notice Ivan's presence.

"Oh, Ivan. Isn't this good news?"

Ivan wanted to make a sarcastic retort regarding his back (which felt worse, for some reason), but Natalya was worriedly shuffling her hands. She looked up at him with her deep eyes, questioning, _Is this really okay?_

"Da, mother. I'm sure Dr. Galante is very skilled." He tried to keep out the sarcasm.

"Good! Nataha, in no time, you will be cured. I'll see to it," She affectionately held her daughter's hands, which were red from being squeezed earlier.

Natalya's expression went visibly downcast. She glanced at her brother again; they both silently agreed. What she had wasn't something that could be cured.

"I'll see you later on this evening, Nataha. Ivan, you should get to your duties too," Their mother stood up, going for the doorway, with Ivan stepping out of the way for her.

"W-Wait- Mother, Vanya…"

"Da, my dear?" The two of them turned to her.

Natalya retrieved what she hid under her chair. It was a large, leather portfolio; he could see many sketches poking in and out of it. His mother was quite curious. "What is this, Nataha?"

"While I was… visiting that place, I made something for you." She brought out a tall watercolor painting. It was an incredibly realistic still-life of radiant orange sunflowers in a sky blue vase. Ivan looked closer and saw that it wasn't really a solid orange, but many shades of the yellow. And upon a better inspection of the vase, he could see little white clouds and swirls in a variety of blues and violets. How did she find a brush small enough to paint them? When did she become such an artist?

"Oh, I love this, Nataha! It is very beautiful. I'll have it framed and out over my bedside at once." Their mother happily fluttered out, admiring the painting as she walked. Natalya remembered how much she had loved sunflowers. He smiled softly at her, "That is very impressive, Nataha."

She smiled back. "Thank you. I have something for you, too." She fished through the portfolio and carefully handed him a painting.

This time, it was wide and painted with watercolors, in much softer hues, giving the appearance of a children's book illustration. It was a family portrait; all of them were in it- Him, Natalya, Yekaterina, their parents. Everyone was dressed neatly, well-combed, smiling casually and sitting on a plush couch. As her brother Vanya, he was incredibly thankful and it only proved to him how great her talent was. As Ivan Braginski… something about it threw him off.

"Vanya?" Natalya asked worriedly. He had been staring at it for a good two minutes with a strange expression. "I-I thought about what you always said, about how important family is… are you alright?"

"I am. And this is beautiful, Natalya," He came back to reality and continued his warm smile. She blushed and felt relieved. "I really want to stay, Vanya. I… I can try to control myself. To control… Them."

Ivan kissed her on the forehead, but did not reply. She watched him leave, his acceptance easing the anxiety she felt since this morning.

Ivan walked to his office, the whole time looking down at the painting, but not really thinking about it. He hated the idea of Natalya having to hide herself and walk on eggshells, pretending to be 'normal' for their mother. She wasn't, and she needed treatment in a special place, a place where her 'Them' would never find her. She accepted that long ago.

Their mother didn't. She was selfishly endangering Natalya by keeping her in the house. And for what? To fawn over her? To show her off? Now that Yekaterina was leaving to live with Chazov, his mother needed another source of amusement… Yes, that must've been it.

He sat down in his comfortable office chair, but his back still ached. He looked at Natalya in her painting- she was sitting on the left, next to Yekaterina. Even if their expressions and overall features were different, they had the same eyes. The same pretty, ocean-like eyes. Yekaterina's were bright and Natalya's look more subdued, like in real life. How did she manage to paint that?

At the right, Ivan sat next to his parents. He did not share their ocean eyes, the ones that were like their mother's. He looked too much like his father, Ivan thought. He could see it in not only the eyes, but the nose, the chin, his body. They wore the same uniform. They had nearly the same expression- did Natalya see them as one in the same? That bothered him, and made his heart ache in addition to his back.

Without thinking, he ripped his father out. The paper tore easily, in two pieces. His sisters on the right, himself and his mother on the left.

He looked at himself again, next to his mother. Now he was seeing himself in her, or vice versa. He looked at her vulture eyes and spider-like fingers. Her cold mouth and sharp, angular, unattractive face. He kept staring at himself and her, and his head spun. Why did they look so similar? Did Natalya see them as one in the same as well?

He ripped out his mother. She tore just as easy. He dropped the picture of his sisters and took himself in both hands. Within seconds his mother's eyes, his father's nose, his mother's jaw, his father's body were in pieces, tearing them so small they looked like small fragments of confetti. His parents received the same fate, until all the paper was scattered about his lap and desk.

When did he start breathing so hard? Why did his back ache even more?

He sat in silence for a few more minutes, staring at the confetti, millions of thoughts and memories flooding back.

"_You don't ever hurt family, Nataha. Family is all you have. Without them, you are nothing."_

"_I-I thought about what you've always said… How important family is…"_

He retrieved the remaining piece of the portrait, the one with his sisters. How sweet and kind they looked, Natalya in lavender, Yekaterina in baby blue. They're heads turned slightly to each other, rosy cheeks and smiles. No trace of his mother or father in their faces, they were their own person.

He folded the painting neatly and took a small wallet out of his breast pocket. He removed the original picture and replaced it with the painting. The original was an old, worn photo of him, Natalya and Yekaterina as children, taken many years ago. They were looking uncomfortable, camera-shy, standing side-by-side in Soviet uniforms. There was no year written on the back.

From a secret compartment in his desk, he retrieved a metal box with a lock that was rarely used. He opened it and stared at several familiar letters, all written on lightly crumbled white paper and covered in a neat cursive. He tucked the old photo under them, and picked up the first letter on the pile. It was dated many months ago, but he remembered when he first received it perfectly. He had gone through a great deal to sneak it into the mansion.

_Month XX, Day XX, Year 196X_

_Dear Vanya,_

_I have arrived at the facility. They gave me my own room, but it is terribly small and all white. I asked the nurse why, and she said it is supposed to 'cleanse' my mind. I think it just makes Them easier to see, because Them has many different colors._

_I'll write weekly, daily, if you want. I packed a lot of paper. …I hope I will not stay so long that I run out._

_

* * *

OHHH MY GODD _I'm so sorry for not updating since December OTL An insane amount of family drama is going on, and major changes have happened to my life. BUT- No excuse! My laziness is still a factor! I'm sorry! TT-TT

I tried to make this a Latvia/Russia-centric chapter, but look what happened... OTL I can't help it, I love writing about Ivan and all his family angst.

I've got lots of new ideas for future chapters, and I think from here, it'll get a little darker. Also, next chapter will include the whole past behind Poland, in case anyone was wondering what the heck he/she was doing in here XD And a certain special somebody for Ukraine will be showing up too, but... I totally forgot his name *kidding*

To Nanibgal- Thank you so much on the info on Soviet Russia (and the Russian language in general)! You're totally right, 19th century would be a much better time period for this story, and I really should go back and replace each Lady/Miss with 'Comrade' - (and should I have replaced 'Dr' with 'comrade'? Hmm...) Since you've pointed it out, I've been trying to think of ways to 'Soviet-ify' this story, and I'm going to spend the next few days going to older chapters and fixing the Lady/Miss. Thank you for the honest concrit! :D

Edit: Yaaay! All Lady/Miss corrections done for all chapters~ Thank you all for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Regina's restless nights at the Braginski manor had long been over, but Eduard's were just beginning. Like her, he found the size of his room and the finery in it rather unnerving - and he was sure his room was considered under furnished in comparison to the others. As he readied for bed, he thought increasingly of the poor conditions of their farming village and his family's small cottage. They were one of the lucky families that had just enough food to sustain themselves through the winter.

He tried to get to sleep, as he was sure Mrs. Braginskaya would have him running in circles the next morning. The bed was soft and warm, the well-built windows didn't let in any cold, the house didn't creak with age and poor repair. Without the creaking of his mother's rocking chair or his father's heavy footsteps, it seemed eerily quiet. He stared listlessly at the ceiling, impatient and wishing for sleep. It seemed the second he closed his eyes he was being roughly shaken awake.

"Hey! It's time to wake up, Comrade Galante!" A rather loud whisper called.

"Wh-what!" Eduard shot up in drowsy surprise, looking about wildly. "Wh-what's going on-?"

He grabbed for his glasses and tried to focus his eyes. It took him a moment to register someone, a _girl_, was standing right by his bed. She turned on the lamp at his bedside.

"Oh, good. You're easier to get up than Regina."

Eduard had some difficulty figuring out her accent. "W…Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wipe that blush off your face and get ready to check on Natalya. The Family- well, her mother- is expecting you to see her before she goes to breakfast."

"_Now?_ What time is it?"

"Six-thirty. Here's some clothes," She pulled a set of clothes from the large wicker basket she was holding (he didn't even notice it until then) and set them neatly on a small table in the middle of the room. "You're coming to breakfast, too."

"I-I am?" Eduard was seriously hoping she wouldn't stay there and _watch_ him change… "Oh-!" He shot upward and nearly tumbled out of the bed. "Will I see Regina?"

"Da, she plays for the family." The girl stepped back uneasily, giving him a peculiar look. "You can talk to her afterwards, I'm guessing ..."

"Y-Yes, I'll do that!" He had so many questions to ask and concerns to voice. He went for his clothes and somehow got tangled in the sheets and completely fell off the bed. "Ow-!"

The girl sighed and left the room. "Jeez, you're really Regina's brother."

Regina was polishing her violin with Felicja quietly stepped into her room. "Oh, good morning," She looked up from her instrument and smiled.

"Oh, you're already awake?" Felicja set down the basket by the large bay window. "And completely dressed! Is this some kinda special occasion?"

"Well, I woke up early, and I wasn't tired." Regina sat down on the window's seat and Felicja joined her a minute later, holding their breakfasts. Since the wedding, Boris had rather avoidant of Felicja, which the maid took full of advantage of. She took a large helping (which was still small in standards to The Family's) of breakfast for herself and Regina, and they began eating together.

"B-but, I suppose it _is_ a little special," Regina smiled brightly, trying to keep her excitement down. "My brother is here! I-I honestly thought I'd never see him again."

Felicja gave her the best hug she could while holding a spoon and a bowl full of soup. She laughed, "I saw him earlier. He's pretty… all over the place."

Regina returned the hug, just as awkwardly and giggly. "He's not a morning person at all! When we were younger, Mother threatened to hit him awake with birch twigs."

"What! You mean the kinds they use in banyas?"

"Da! That didn't scare him too much, and even when he slept in, he'd drink heaps of coffee."

"Gross. A lot of servants drink it, but it's so black and thick." Felicja stuck out her tongue, twisting her face and making Regina laugh. "Oh, Regina, what are your parents like?"

The Latvian girl was rather surprised by the question, but answered it with bright eyes. "W-well… They're very kind and gentle. They have never been harsh to me or Eduard. Because she had children, Mother was allowed to stay home. She always took good care of us, and Father looked after us."

"Did they give you the violin?" Felicja asked, and mentally added, _'Cause it looks a little out of their price range._

"That was a gift from my father's brother…" Regina's mood quickly changed. The quiet man who had given her such happiness during and after his life seemed years and years away. She remembered that she promised to visit his grave every year, and she had, but…

"Regina? Are you okay?" Felicja put her hand on the girl's shoulder, noticing how downcast her eyes became. "I'm sorry, did I ask too much?"

Regina shook her head quickly. "N-no! I-I just remembered… W-well, he was my confident, a very good friend. I could tell him anything and he'd always listen. He gave my violin to me when he passed away."

"O-oh," Felicja frowned awkwardly. "I didn't mean to bring up anything."

"It's fine! Actually, I thought…" The small girl had set her food aside and began squeezing her hands together in anxiety. "I-I was just thinking… at the funeral, I promised him I'd visit him every year."

Felicja was about to say something along the lines of, 'That's kind of you', but quickly stopped herself. She sighed in realization, "Ah…"

"Y-yes… he's resting in my village, far from here…" She bit her lip and squeezed her hands. Memories of her yearly visits began coming back, and she recalled the comfort she felt when she saw his well-kept resting place, with the same, aged oak tree shading him.

On the first anniversary of his passing, she planted daisies around that oak. Every June, they bloomed proudly and beautifully. The wide, blue sky would be fresh with clouds and a light breeze; the air would be clean and carry a light scent of the snow-white daisies. She would sit under the shady tree, and she'd begin talking. As time went on, these talks became lighter, with fewer tears. And before she left, she'd play him a song, or sometimes several.

These were her secret, personal yearly visits. It was during the winter when the whole family went together, because that was the only time when Eduard and their father were able to get time off. Regina didn't find the cold snow and the bare limbs of the oak tree flattering to her dear uncle, and she felt he wouldn't like to see his only remaining family somber and in tears. Early summer was a much more suitable time for Raivis, for that's when he was at his happiest, despite his many hardships.

"R-Regina! Are you okay?" Felicja's sharp voice completely pulled her out of her reminiscing.

"Wh-what!" Regina jumped, staring wide-eyed back at her friend. "S-Sorry, w-was I-?"

"Yeah, you were out of it! Jeez," With her apron, Felicja wiped away the tears on the Latvian's face; Regina hadn't even noticed she was crying. "You really scared me. I thought I upset you- well, I did, didn't I?"

"Ny-nyet, I was just remembering!" Regina tried to wiggle out of the maid's grip, as the apron's material wasn't especially soft.

Felicja pulled away with some reluctance and sighed heavily. "It may be a stretch, but… do you think you can ask to leave, just for a day or two, to see him?"

"I… I don't think they'd allow it…"

"It figures, but still," Felicja crossed her arms uncomfortably and scooted off the window seat. She began gathering the dishes. "Sorry I ruined the mood…"

Regina stepped off as well, and assured her friend. "N-no, I'm still very happy Eduard is here. He'll be at breakfast, right?"

"Da, completely, and there's a good chance he'll spend the whole day at Natalya's heels." Felicja made a grimace, adding, "And at Mrs. Braginskaya's whip."

"Er- m-most likely…Oh!" Regina ran up to Felicja, causing the maid to look up with some alarm. "Can… can you tell me about your family?"

A strange expression crossed Felicja's thin face, and for a moment, Regina felt like she also asked something wrong. The maid's pretty green eyes clouded, but just as quickly, they recovered. She had all the dishes packed up in the basket, then said with some urgency, "Wait, what time is it?"

"Time? Oh…" Regina glanced back at the clock next to her bed. "Seven… seven fifteen! Oh, I'll be late-!" She scrambled for her violin.

Felicja groaned and darted out, calling over her shoulder, "Damn! I'm late too-! See you tonight!"

"Goodbye!" Regina said after her, and scurried her way down the hall.

"What _is_ that?" Natalya's dark blue eyes cast obvious apprehension on her doctor.

Eduard blinked, and then looked down at the instrument his hands. "A rubber mallet."

"What does it do?"

"It tests your reflexes."

"Why would you need to do that?" She was genuinely confused. Eduard didn't take that as a good sign; it should've been a part of a routine mental health check-up at her facility… given that it was a legitimate, well-run facility. He had his doubts.

"It's all routine. So please, just let me tap your knee- or elbow, if you prefer. It won't hurt at all."

Natalya had some lingering protest, but she kept still. Eduard tapped on her elbow, and to his surprise, it only slightly moved. He tapped her knee and got the same reaction. Subconsciously, he frowned and began writing in his notebook.

"What is it?" She asked worriedly. "Is that bad?"

Eduard set aside his notes and chose his words carefully. "Well, it's… rather uncommon."

She frowned. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You're elbow and leg were supposed to jerk up, without your help."

"…Ah?"

"Here, try it with me," Eduard handed her the small rubber hammer. "Just tap my knee."

She glanced at it, then him, with some cynicism. She hit his knee with- she honestly didn't mean to- a rather absurd about of strength, resulting in Eduard's leg jerking up and his whole body nearly toppling off the stool.

"S-sorry!" She quickly dropped the mallet. "I-I didn't think I'd hit that hard!"

Eduard winced and rubbed his knee. "_Oww_… It's… fine. I think." He assured, but thought, _God, I'll be lucky if my kneecap isn't shattered…_

Natalya shifted in embarrassment. "S-so… Next test."

"Right. Next." Eduard winced for a last time and put the mallet back into his medical bag- far, far into his medical bag. He retrieved a folder of papers, her medical records from the Stalin Mental Health Facility of Smolensk. It was annoyingly minimal, and although they had taken records of her behavior, he wasn't completely sure how credible it was.

_Patient displays disturbing behavior that is proof of some sort of mental defect. These symptoms are random, although they tend to happen every four to five weeks and go on for several days. They are as follows:_

_Speaking foul and vulgar language to herself or anyone near her_

_Injuring herself by scratching at her skin or scratching the walls_

_Claiming things are in her room when they are most obviously not_

_Screaming a man's name, 'Ivan'. He has been identified as her brother, and multiple requests have been sent to Comrade General Braginski asking him to bring his son, Comrade Colonel Braginski, to see her. We assume this will allow her to gain her sense._

Eduard lightly rubbed his temples, some frustration forming in him. These people either didn't have the slightest clue in how to treat this girl, or they fully knew what was wrong with her and he was in way over his head.

Natalya became bothered by his silence. "What? What have they written about me?"

He jumped a bit and closed the folder quickly. "Written? N-nothing-"

"I'm not slow. They'd always come in with notebooks, just like you. And they'd write and write without ever speaking to me." She said irritably.

Now he felt guilty. "I-It's honestly nothing bad…"

"Then let me see." Natalya held her hand, silently demanding the folder. Eduard sighed and, against his better judgment, gave it to her. She promptly opened it and began reading.

Her posture sagged as she read on, and eventually she just closed it and looked to her feet. Natalya muttered, "You must think I am insane."

"It's counter-productive for a doctor to judge a patient so quickly," Eduard insisted, and when Natalya glanced at him with hesitation, he added, "Besides, I don't know you well enough."

"That has hardly stopped most of them," She said softly, but bitterly. "Even though my father was… very upset about it, I am glad my mother brought me back here."

"And I think that was a wise choice." Eduard agreed, treading lightly. "You're recovery will be much smoother if you're in a place you're comfortable with."

_Recovery? So he's just like them, thinking I can be cured of… this. _Natalya solemnly handed him the folder and looked back to her feet. This private doctor certainly had better intentions then her previous ones, but in the end, they weren't much different. She began to feel anxious.

Eduard picked up on it and changed the subject, tossing the folder to the side. "So, are you ready for breakfast? We should be heading downstairs soon."

"I don't think my father wants me there." Natalya responded bluntly.

"Er- well, I'm sure your mother does, and your sister. Why don't you go for them?"

"…Yes, I suppose." Natalya stood up with some reluctance. Eduard gathered his things with relief. Maybe she'd cheer up once she had some food. She watched him, then said with some amusement, "Besides, I really don't think you know how to get to the dining room."

It just dawned on him. "…Oh. I don't."

Natalya had the faintest smile and brushed past him, walking briskly towards the dining room.

"W-wait!" Eduard went after her, his arms still full of supplies. He had a feeling her mother would throw a happy sort of fit that he was taking them with him.

And she did. She was poised anxiously on the edge of her chair, watching the door intently. So, the second Natalya stepped in, she exclaimed.

"There you are, dear! You took your time, so I was afraid Comrade Galante's check-up wasn't going well." She beckoned to the seat next to her, but Natalya quite obviously ignored her and sat next to Yekaterina and Chazov. Mrs. Braginskaya hardly noticed and practically threw Eduard into the vacant seat.

"You brought your supplies? Such dedication! Just set those aside," She practically beamed.

"R-Right, I'll do that," Eduard said uncomfortably, scooting his bag, notebooks and the folder under his chair. "Are we too late for breakfast?" He asked, noticing everyone else's breakfasts were halfway gone.

"I held onto it," Yekaterina said, passing the plates to her sister and Eduard. The two thanked her while Chazov and Mrs. Braginskaya began noisily conversing.

Eduard was hardly two bites into his breakfast when the doors swung open and Regina skidded to a halt. "S-sorry I'm late! So sorry-!" She panted, getting a hold of herself and her poor violin, which she was probably swinging through the air as she ran. For some reason, Eduard felt a need to ask her if she had been alright- not just this night, but all these months- but Chazov beat him.

"Comrade Galantaya! Have you met with Comrade Galante?" He asked, pointing to Eduard.

Regina tried to pat down her hair as she answered, with some surprise, "Y-yes. He's my brother."

The plump man blinked, then said, "…Oh! I suppose I should have assumed." He laughed, and Mrs. Braginskaya joined him. Eduard mentally groaned and judging by Yekaterina's expression, she probably had too.

Chazov recovered himself and said, "So! What will you be playing today?"

"W-well, do you have anything in mind?"

"Anything, I'm not too picky." He turned to Yekaterina, chuckling lightly, "Dorogaya, did you know they were related?"

"Yes." Yekaterina responded with clear fake politeness, but it seemed to go right over the general's head. Eduard wondered how he managed to impress someone as beautiful as her- or rather, how she managed to get stuck with someone as slow as him.

Regina played a simple, airy tune, and the breakfast continued with Chazov and Mrs. Braginskaya jumping from one obnoxiously loud topic to the next. Occasionally, Yekaterina or Eduard were asked for input, and Natalya stayed completely silent. Eduard had long been done with his food, and the only noise _not_ grating on his nerves was the sound of Regina's violin- but that was often being drowned out.

_Honestly, are the breakfasts always this long? _He repressed the urge to drum his nails on the table or get out the book in his medical bag and read. Finally, some relief came: in the form of a letter delivered by Boris.

The butler ignored Eduard's fiery glare and opened it neatly for Mrs. Braginskaya. She skimmed the short letter for a moment and her face lit up just as fast. "Oh! Oh, oh! How exciting! How charitable of him!"

"Pray tell, what is it?" Chazov grinned with childish excitement. Eduard prayed for permission to leave and noticed Regina had stopped playing and had a hopeful look about her. What she knew and he didn't was that whenever a green envelope arrived with a creamy white letter inside, it was always sent by one person:

"Toris Lorinaitis, the dear boy, has personally invited us to the grand premiere of his latest ballet." Mrs. Braginskaya began reading. "'_I have reserved you, your family and any friends you'd like to bring._' Very sweet, da? I will be sure to invite Comrade Abramova and his lovely wife. It's on short notice, but I'm sure they can attend."

"It's been a while since I've seen a ballet," Chazov turned to Yekaterina. "Would you like to go, dorogaya?"

For the first time that whole morning, he'd caught her attention. "Yes, I believe so." She wondered what sort of classical music they would present. "I can go, can't I, Mother?"

"Is that even a question? Natalya will accompany us, and I will bring Ivan even if I must drag him. Ah-" She turned to Eduard, smiling, "You will come as well!"

"Er- r-really?" Those few words pricked him and deflated him like a balloon.

"Naturally! Yekaterina, Natalya, to your rooms! I've got a faint idea of what I'd like you to wear."

"Lovely," Natalya murmured dryly, sipping her tea. Unlike her sister, she had difficulty tolerating social parties.

Eduard shared her apprehension. This world he was thrown into was the night-and-day opposite of his quiet little village, and he was liking it less and less.

It was eight at night, but the sun had set many hours ago. The Braginski ladies- along with their guests and a silently complaining Eduard- had shuffled out for the premiere.

Naturally, Regina wasn't invited, but she didn't mind in the least bit. She didn't want to remain in the room the whole night, and Boris was busy escorting the Braginskis, so she snuck into the servants' rooms and visited with Felicja.

It was just as dismal and bare as Felicja had described. She said she was lucky to get one of the larger rooms, but Regina didn't see the fortune in rickety, old furniture and cracked windows. And as if the minimal bedding wasn't enough, her room was at the very back corner of the manor, with an old door leading right outside. Regina was amazed that Felicja could stand the winters.

"Actually, I don't sleep here during the colder nights," Felicja said, taking a seat on one of the flimsy stools and setting her wash basin down. "Some of the nicer girls let me share a bed with them."

Regina sat on the stool next to her and set down the laundry she was carrying. She figured she might as well help Felicja with some of the chores. "T-then why can't you just stay with them? I-It's still rather cold…"

Felicja's green eyes grinned mischievously, betraying her innocent tone. "This is the only door leading inside without a lock."

Regina frowned in confusion as she handed her the soap. "U-Um, so…?"

"_Soooo_…" Felicja took it and began lathering up the clothes. "When Toris stays here, he tells everyone he's going for a walk."

"Oh." Regina thought, and then blushed. "_…_Oh!"

Felicja giggled, looking down at the old shirts. She started scrubbing harshly as she said, "If tonight goes well, that cow Braginskaya will ask him to spend the night. And how can he refuse her hospitality?" She giggled again, handing the wet shirt to Regina, who hung it up on a makeshift clothesline made of old twine.

The girls began idly talking back and forth for the next few hours, with Felicja washing the clothes and Regina hanging them, then folding when they were nearly dry. Their conversation wasn't particularly exciting, but for some reason, Felicja felt... relaxed. Perhaps 'content' was a better word. Every morning, she surprised herself as she looked forward to carrying that weighty basket and sharing breakfast with the Family's small guest, a girl who was practically kidnapped from her cradle. And their small talks, in the hallways during the day, or a few minutes before Regina went to bed, or whenever they could. Someone to brighten her each day.

Yes, Felicja loved Toris, more than she could adequately say. When he looked her way, his sweet green eyes had such softness and adoration that, just for a moment, she forgot her filthy appearance and all of the misery her day entailed. But Toris couldn't be there everyday, no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he was gone for months at a time. When he'd come back, the cold, monochrome world of the Braginski manor shattered and they'd be sparkling and joyous, just the two of them, in the garden or his room or her's, anywhere. When he was gone, the illusion faded, and her servitude would stare her right in the face.

Felicja was either bitter or dejected when he left on one of his long absences. It seemed that everything in her life just went in and out- like Teresa.

Felicja thought outloud, "You know, I haven't had anyone to talk to since Teresa died."

"Teresa? Whose that?" Regina asked casually, taking down a few of the shirts. At least a good amount of sun came from the cracked window. Regina turned around and, judging by the size of Felicja's eyes and her paled skin, she had just asked something seriously wrong.

Regina stepped forward and tried to hastily recover. "Y-you don't have to tell me! I mean, if you don't want to-!"

Felicja sighed, scooting the bin away with her foot and leaning against the table. Regina had went and spilled her guts about her family, her _living_ family, when she was obviously still missing them and hurting from being so far away. It was only fair that Felicja talked about her 'family'- the only family she knew, a single person, someone who wasn't even around anymore. Someone who she had been - intentionally or unintentionally? - pushing to the very edge of her memory.

She started with some difficulty, simply because she was trying to concentrate on those many years ago, the beginning. "She was my older sister. We were raised in the same orphanage, and she was … a lot like your parents, or at least, what you said: kind and gentle. She was a lot calmer than me."

Regina quickly left her makeshift clothesline and sat next to Felicja, listening attentively. It worried her how indifferent Felicja's face was, how level her tone was. As if she was repeating a rather boring story.

"We were the only ones who spoke Polish, although I don't remember being in Poland. All I knew was that orphanage. The women taking care of us weren't cruel, and we had decent food and bedding…."

Her memory was hazy and fogged. It was like finding an old picture frame and having to dust it off or repair its frame. Felicja struggled to remember her childhood- what she played, where the orphanage was, if her early years were even happy ones...

The strongest memories she could recall were the adults walking in, the couples, browsing the children like commodities and speaking with cheery tones to the caretakers. Felicja and Teresa were always overlooked, until they became the oldest children in the orphanage. Toddlers who'd been there for only a month were adopted without a second look, taken to the warm arms of happy mothers and excited fathers. Even the unruly children, like that short boy that always threw tantrums, were accepted. Even the ugly ones, like mean-spirited Veronika, who always pulled Felicja's hair. Even the mutes and deafs and blinds were given a better chance than them.

Felicja took the passive rejection in stride. She assumed that there was something wrong with her, maybe she was uglier than Veronika or maybe adults preferred a completely deaf child then one who couldn't hear in one ear, like Teresa. Maybe all the work they did around the orphanage made them too boyish and rough-looking to parents who wanted delicate ladies. Maybe they did something bad and they were dubbed pariahs- how could Felicja know? She could barley understand their language. Or maybe they were just unwanted. Adults know best, don't they? Maybe the parents saw something nasty in the two girls that Felicja or Teresa never noticed.

Felicja was twelve and Teresa was sixteen- that's what the caretaker said. Felicja never remembered her birthday. But she remembered that day, because instead of a fresh-faced and eager couple, a grave man in a black suit entered the orphanage. The caretaker's manager was expecting him. All the children acted their best, assuming he was here to take one of them to a better place. But instead of browsing and debating like the other parents, he went straight for Felicja and Teresa. They were in a dark car within thirty minutes; driving away from the home they'd known all their lives.

Felicja remembered looking at Teresa and seeing her pale face, her fearful eyes. She thought nothing of it and held her sister's hand, smiling, "Isn't this great, Teresa? We're going to have a father and mother, just like everyone else."

Teresa looked down at her dear sister, their bright green eyes meeting each other. Teresa wanted to express her worry, but she still treated her sister like a child. "Y-yes… It's … wonderful." She squeezed her hand tighter. Teresa looked out the window, watching the foreign buildings go by. An older man, taking in two young girls without warning? She expected the worse.

The car stopped in front of the largest house Felicja and Teresa had ever seen. And to their complete surprise, the man said in perfect Polish, "We are here."

"Y-you can speak Polish too?" Teresa asked anxiously, her distress slowly leaving her. "Did you know we were…?"

"Yes. Now get out." He opened the door for them, and Felicja jumped out with enthusiasm while Teresa nervously followed.

"It's so big! Is this our home?" Felicja turned to the man, unsure what to expect but happy nonetheless.

"No." He said bluntly. Teresa's face fell quickly, and Felicja was confused, but he continued. "This is the Braginski manor. You'll be serving them from this day on."

They didn't completely understand until he had given them their uniforms and shoved mops and brooms in their hands. They were supposed to be looked over by the older servants, who ignored them until one of the girls did something wrong- usually Felicja. Teresa understood some Russian and was able to get by, but Felicja knew none and was fiercely independent. Teresa had be by her side to keep the other women from beating her.

It was completely different from their orphanage life, but how could they complain? As the years passed, Felicja was forcefully taught to obey without question and speak the language. Teresa seemed to age prematurely, her naturally small body going from thin to outright emaciated as she worked day after day, scrubbing and washing until her joints ached and her fingers became permanently white.

She ignored her own malnourished and overworked body for her sister. She gave Felicja nearly all of her food, and took over the more difficult chores. Despite the extra meals and easier workload, Felicja's body went gaunt and weak. She was not as tolerant or mentally strong as Teresa; she lagged behind, despite the verbal and physical lashings from the other equally tired and hungry servants.

They struggled through like this, barley breathing, for several years. With no belief in a higher power and no hope for a better future, they believed in and hoped for each other. As long as Teresa saw Felicja's energetic eyes, and as long as Felicja saw Teresa's kind smile, it seemed as if they could endure any hardship.

Reality harshly told them otherwise. One bitter winter, tuberculosis spread throughout the servants' rooms. With their underfed and exhausted bodies, many of them fell ill and perished quickly. Teresa was one of the first to catch it, and the one who suffered the most.

Felicja didn't even have the basic right of seeing her sister pass, or hearing her last words or holding her hand as she peacefully went. When Felicja awoke that bitter December morning, she saw the empty bed. There were several, but that one burned in her memory. She could recalled exactly what it looked like: An old pine frame, sheets that were once white and now stained, a lumpy pillow. All scattered about and empty of any trace of Teresa.

Felicja questioned everyone. She was given the same answer: Up to twenty had been victim to the tuberculosis, Teresa included. Their bodies had been retrieved early in the morning and taken away.

"Taken away _where_!" Felicja was screaming, but to who she didn't know.

"To be buried." Ah, now she remembered. That pig, that bastard, Boris.

"Buried where? What grave?" Felicja grabbed him by his jacket, managing to pull him closer despite her skinny body and small height.

He didn't respond. She pushed him with what little strength she had. She fell to the ground and wailed in an incomprehensible mix of Polish and Russian. "I hate you! I wish you had never brought us here! You killed her!"

"Do not be foolish. She passed because of the complications the illness gave her. Pick yourself up and help Lilya wash the dishes…"

That night, she ran. She didn't even take anything with her, and she didn't know where she was going. She stole shoes and a jacket from some sleeping man and ran out the back door, the one with the rusty, broken lock. It was horribly cold; the worst December Leningrad had mustered. She couldn't feel the wind biting at her body, because it had gone numb around the same time her heart had.

Felicja collapsed at one point. It felt like she'd walked for hours and miles, but there was a good chance she only got a block away from the manor. When she fell to snow-covered ground, heated pain drilled into her whole body. She was sure her blood was freezing, and the only part of her body not in chilled agony was her fingertips and toes. After a few seconds of that pain- she could recall it perfectly- she passed out.

She assumed she would die. She expected to wake up… certainly not where she did. She was in her usual bed, but this one had another pillow and a rather thick blanket. And she was wearing another jacket, and this one was much warmer than the one she stole… It didn't even have any holes in it… she opened her eyes slowly, ignoring the pain that the simple action caused. She was in one of the servant's rooms, and it was empty, with the exception of a stool and a man sitting on it.

He exclaimed something- she was too exhausted and faint to understand his jumbled, heavily-accented Russian. He began talking quickly, and that didn't help at all. She really want him to shut up, because she was beginning to get a headache.

So, she turned her back to him- and she groaned, because she felt all of her cold bones creak in protest. She cursed out loud.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I know how much this must hurt." – that's the short version of what he said, probably. He retrieved a bowl of soup from somewhere and held it out. "Have this."

Felicja's body decided food was more important than complaining about the cold. She slurped down the hot soup, the sudden temperature change excruciating but a full stomach worth it. It wasn't until the bowl was empty and licked clean until she bothered to look over and see who gave it to her.

She was still dizzy and all she saw were the bright green eyes. "Teresa?" She asked weakly, quietly, hopefully.

When he spoke, then she saw him clearly, and she felt stupid. "N-no, I'm Toris, Toris Lorinaitis." He said anxiously…

"T-Toris!" Regina's head spun. "_Our_ Toris?"

Felicja was so deep into her story she had to clear her head and come back to reality. She gave a small smile and blush. "Yes, our Toris. The one who is distracting the horrid Family with a ballet."

"He saved you?"

"I was surprised too," Felicja said with amusement. "He doesn't look strong enough to carry a girl, right?"

Regina was listening so intently that she was taken by complete surprise. "So that's how you met? But, how-"

The door swung on its hinges with such speed and slammed against the wall with such force that a hole was ripped into it. Both girls let out a scream, and Regina accidentally knocked the bin over. Soapy water and soggy clothes splashed across the floor and onto the feet of a very, very unamused butler.

"Felicja! Clean this up at once!" Boris snapped. Felicja recovered herself and stood tall. "If you hadn't barged in, I wouldn't have done it!"

Boris turned his heels on Regina, who was shaking and pale. "Get out. You shouldn't be here." He said with stern harshness. Tears sprang to Regina's eyes and- after glancing quickly at Felicja- she scurried out.

Boris glared at Felicja. "I should throw you out. You should be doing your duties, not fabricating sob stories to Comrade Chazovaya's guests."

"_Fabricating-?_ You're the one that started this 'sob story'! I'd rather stay at the orphanage!" Felicja spat, her vision going red.

"That filthy institution? You would've died by disease or hunger."

"My sister died of disease and I'm already hungry-! _Ahhh-!_"

Boris had taken a fistful of her blonde hair and pulled her completely off her feet. He dragged her across the servant's quarters while she screamed and clawed at him.

"Don't be- _ah-!-_ so dramatic." He winced as her nails cut his hands. "You still haven't learned to be grateful."

With a single swing, he opened the door to the cellar, and threw her in. Before Felicja could gather herself, he'd shut and locked it.

Ignoring her screaming and pounding, Boris retrieved a small handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around his left hand, the one with the most cuts. The servants around him chuckled amongst themselves.

"The filthy Pole is acting up again?" Lilya tittered. "Honestly, don't waste cellar space. I could hit her in my free time…"

Boris turned sharply on his heels and shouted, "_Get back to work!_ All of you!"

All of them, Lilya included, flinched and scurried out of the kitchen. Boris sighed heavily and wrapped his other hand. He glanced at the cellar door; it was still shaking from Felicja's fist-pounding. He rubbed his temples as he tried to stop a headache from coming.

"To think, that girl is the last heiress of the Łukasiewicz family… I can't believe it- but, he _did_ say it was only a possibility."

It was late at night, but the theatre lights were bright and grand. The normal guests were leaving, anxious to get home. But the Braginski family and co. weren't even close to leaving.

"Toris! What a charming little performance that was." Mrs. Braginskaya nearly pounced on the poor Lithuanian producer the moment he came within her eyesight. "Yekaterina enjoyed the second act, but my personal favorite was the first."

"A-ah, thank you very much," Toris said, still not used to Mrs. Braginskaya's selective enthusiasm, despite knowing her for so long. "The troupe and I worked especially hard these past few months. I'm happy you enjoyed it."

"I did, more so than usual, because my dear Natalya was here!" Mrs. Braginskaya stepped aside to reveal her daughter, who was quite embarrassed to suddenly be thrown in the spotlight. Eduard was completely in his own world until Mrs. Braginskaya added, "And her personal … assistant, Eduard."

Toris remembered Natalya from his previous visits and knew she wasn't one for talking, but he was curious as to who this 'personal assistant' was. Before he could inquire, Mrs. Braginskaya took his shoulder and scooted him several inches closer to Natalya- a little too close to her personal space, and she obviously didn't like it. "My daughter _adored _the ballet. I'm so glad, because you know she normally doesn't! Natalya, dear, tell him what you told me!"

After dropping that not-so-subtle hint, Mrs. Braginskaya sped off to meet with Chazov and Yekaterina. Natalya sighed.

Toris gave her an apologetic smile. "I understand. Ah, how was your academic retreat?"

"My… what?" Natalya raised an eyebrow.

"Your mother said you were gone because of some program your old school was hosting?"

"Oh- yes." Natalya quickly spun the story her mother obviously thought of on the spot. "It was just a visit to some villages, so we could, um, tell them about the city, and so we could learn from them."

"Country villages? That sounds very relaxing. You should ask Miss Galantaya if you visited her village." Toris tried to keep up his polite indifference, but he knew how much Regina missed her family and was trying to think of ways to get in touch with them.

Eduard took his questioning a completely different direction. The second he heart 'Galantaya', his head snapped into reality, and he quickly asked, "Regina? How do you know her?"

This stranger knows little Regina? How? Toris didn't like the man's tone or the way he was glaring. With some assertion, Toris asked, "How do _you_ know her?"

"I asked first." Eduard took a step forward, challenging him. Why did this man, who was completely unrelated to the Braginski family, know Regina? What were his intentions?

Toris was shorter, but he took a step as well. He was hardly intimidated, and it showed.

Sensing the tension, Natalya quickly shot out, "He's Regina's brother, Eduard Galante. Eduard, this is Toris Lorinaitis, mother's friend. He visits often."

"…Oh." Both young men noticeably loosened their postures and the flames between them reduced to just sparks. Toris recovered completely first, and exclaimed, "Her brother! You found her before I found you!"

"Excuse me?" That statement effectively puzzled Eduard.

The Lithuanian spoke quickly, overcome with excitement. "She mentioned her family, and you, quite often! I know her arriving her wasn't… particularly legal, and she was undoubtedly lonely, so I tried to find her family in the different villages in the countryside. Er, there's a lot of Galante families, surprisingly…"

Eduard was still disbelieved. "I… well; I suppose I should thank you… But I came here on my own."

"And I'm happy you did! I'll be staying the next few nights. I'm sure I can distract Mrs. Braginskaya enough so you can talk to Regina."

At the same time, Eduard and Natalya's eyes lit up. She turned to her doctor, "And while you visit, I can have some time to myself?"

"Er- wow, is my company that bad?"

"No. But my mother's is." She replied bluntly.

"Well… yes, alright."

The duo turned back to Toris. The producer grinned childishly. "Regina will be much happier! I hope you'll stay for quite a while."

Eduard nodded and smiled back, but in the back of his mind, he had good dozen or so plans of how to escape with Regina in tow.

Somehow, in some miraculous way, Yekaterina had managed to escape from her chattering mother and bellowing husband. All her life she'd been around those types of people, but recently, she could only take them in small doses.

She walked about the quieter parts of the theatre, admiring the architecture and lovely murals painted on the walls. She hummed the music of the ballet to herself; it was charming and carefree. She wished Regina had come along. Yekaterina still felt guilt of unintentionally bringing the girl to the manor… even though Regina didn't show any hostility, and though she had her brother, the tall woman was still bothered. Yekaterina sighed sadly, looking up from her feet to the nearest painting.

It truly took her off-guard. While most of the paintings in the theatre were pastel colors, this one was harsh and fiery. It was a stylized, very modern portrait of Stalin. She shouldn't have been surprised, his face was everywhere, and she'd seen it a million times since she was a girl. But now it bothered her profoundly. Because Chazov, despite his… slowness, was a strong political player, she became the political wife. They'd only been married a short time and it seemed every general or colonel or what-have-you knew in Leningrad had shook her hand. And Chazov showed her their 'calendar'- literally, he had rallies and speeches and dinners for everyday of the every week of every month.

Yekaterina was _not_ a politician. She didn't even think she'd make a good politician's wife. Because when she saw all of these plump men in their crisp uniforms, wearing their glittery medals, she thought of the skinny people in their crumpled clothes on the dull streets. The people she used to visit everyday, who she'd share her money and food with. Isn't that what they always said on the radios and TV's? To share and to prosper together, as a single union?

_I know I'm exhausted when I begin debating politics with myself, _Yekaterina thought wearily. She decided to return to her mother, although she could honestly list a dozen better things to do. She turned sharply and completely bumped into a man.

"Oh nyet! _Prastee Meeynya_!" The man said in an embarrassed voice. He began to rapidly exclaim more apologies, but Yekaterina stopped him by holding up her hand.

"N-nyet, it's fine," She said reassuringly, despite the pain in her nose. She winced and ignored social etiquette as she rubbed it. "Ah, oww…"

"S-sorry," He apologized sincerely again. The man was quite pale, and young, probably her age. His Russian was heavily accented with… something. It sounded very unusual, and he was speaking so softly. Yekaterina shook her head. "Honestly, it's fine," She smiled one last time and quickly left.

He blinked, fixing his glasses, as they'd nearly fallen off. "_A-adieu_! Er- I mean," He smacked himself on the head and began muttering. "What was the word again? Er… not _spasibo_…Ugh, and I read so much…"

A familiar hand patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Do not fret, Mathieu! It is not the first time you have been … awkward with the opposite sex." The man sighed dramatically.

"Hey, I hardly had time to be awkward." Mathieu frowned, ignoring his brother's acting. "And she accidentally bumped into me."

"That's when you say, 'Oh, and I was just praying to God for a wonderful guardian angel~'"

Mathieu groaned, "You can't say things like that here, when they're watching us so closely."

"Nonsense, they trust us completely. And why shouldn't they? We are their fellow comrades, non?"

* * *

I wrote this whole god-awful chapter in a day. ...Yeah, believe it -dies-

I WOULD'VE POSTED THIS DONE TWO WEEKS AGO. FANFICTION JUST NOW LET ME UPDATE ;;n;; THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR PATIENCE!

Oh, and if you've noticed, I've included Regina's uncle again (he seemed to completely disappear, didn't he? My bad!). There _is_ a reason I described the grave so vividly- but that's for later chapters! Also, France's comment will make sense next chapter! Yush yush, that means Mattie and Frenchie are gonna be semi-major characters in the following chapters~! Oh, and so will all of Felicja's drama :D Don't worry, I'd never write an unhappy LietPol ending!

As always, thank you so much for the reviews! And if you have any ideas or historical accuracy concerns, please Review/PM me/Email me~!


	10. Chapter 10

As usual, that afternoon the four men always around Ivan played the double role of colleagues and pains in his neck. After just an hour of political discussion – if they're inexperienced and idle commentary could even be called that – the younger men grew restless and suggested spending the calm winter day outside. Bright does not necessarily mean warm, but the gazebo was always their preferred haunt, regardless of the weather. Somehow, Ivan got roped into a game of chess, although he hardly minded. It was some distraction from the cold and it was better than pointless gossip.

Major Brize was an inexperienced chess player, but that's what made him interesting in Ivan's eyes. Often, the young man's blind stupidity lost him a game. Rarely, it earned him a win. This time, the former seemed very likely.

"Damn, I'm down to one pawn!" Brize said cheerfully despite the circumstances. He'd already lost three games earlier today. "Comrade Zenchikov, are you watching this?"

"I am, and I _told_ you not to capture the bishop with the rook. You're paying for it now." Zenchikov was seated next to him and was attempting to give pieces of advice to his novice of a friend. "The game is up to fate, at this point."

"Oh quiet! Just give me another four turns; I'll bring it in my favor…"

On the opposite side of the chessboard, Ivan's mind began drifting from the game – thanks to a certain irritating Colonel. Komorov was hovering over him like a plague. In the past month he'd gained a slow-growing but insufferable air of superiority. He bestowed it upon all of his subordinates, even Ivan, his equal in rank. Ivan began avoiding him more than usual; otherwise he'd have to punch those glasses into Komorov's vulture eyes.

"I noticed Natalya is back from her vacation." Komorov remarked lightly, keeping his eyes down.

Major Brize made a reckless move, costing him a valuable rook. Ivan placed the little wooden piece in his sizeable pile of captured white pawns. Motova made some snarky comment, but Ivan only heard Komorov's quieting voice.

"It's too bad your older sister left before you three could have a proper, happy reunion. I don't think the wedding counted as one."

"Hm." Ivan moved his knight; making steady progress towards the king's guarding pieces, maintaining his stony look of indifference. Brize was genuinely stumped but denied help from a complaining Zenchikov. "I can do this on my own; I'm not a kid anymore, _honestly_…."

Ivan now attempted to focus on the board, mulling whether to allow his knight to continue a lonely crusade or to put his unused rook into play. It was half enjoying the game; half attempting to ignore Komorov's eyes that Ivan swore were burning holes into the back of his coat. At least it seemed like the idiot was done talking…

Two turns passed and Brize refused to give up, even with the metaphorical noose tightening around his wooden king. Ivan appreciated that, nothing was more tiring than a game without a struggling opponent. Ivan was contemplating on his next move. If he wanted to draw the game out, just for his own sick amusement, he could certainly pick off that pawn and bishop …

"…Although, I'm sure it won't be too lonely, not with that pleasant little Latvian around." Komorov stabbed suddenly. Quietly.

An indescribable angry shock sped itself up Ivan's spine. He couldn't keep down the growing scowl. In a single turn, Ivan's queen swiftly ended the battle.

The young major sighed good-naturedly. "Every time! You get me every time, comrade!"

"Didn't he use that same move last time?" Zenchikov's voice was deadpanned.

"I dunno… did he?"

"Oh, forget it," Motova took a drink from his ever-present flask. "This isn't your game, kid! I say we play some cards. That alright, Colonel Braginski?"

Ivan looked away, brushing past Komorov and sitting on the farther end of the gazebo. Motova took the intimidating gesture as a yes, so the three relaxed men cleared the table of the chess set and Brize produced a deck of cards from his jacket. Ivan wasn't watching them; he was keeping a feeling of bitterness down his throat. Komorov came and sat next to him, doing a similarly bad job of keeping his posture.

He was smirking with those stupid bird-eyes that ignored the card game but feigned interest, thin lips stretching but trying not to. "I struck a bad chord, didn't I? My sincerest apologies, Ivan."

"You struck nothing, Vadim."

Ivan should've added on an insult onto that. He only exposed himself further. He added, too quickly, "You can never seem to keep your weaseling nose to yourself, and when you find nothing, you fish blindly."

"My weaseling nose didn't have to do anything. You bit the bait yourself."

"If I could even call your prattling that." Ivan kept his grimace steady, but his eyes were afire. It was his turn to give a burning stare, directly into Komorov's face. Matching his comrade's glare from behind his glasses, Komorov's smirk tugged at its sides.

"The great Colonel Ivan Braginski, son of the war hero of the same name …. Flinched."

"Did I? I don't recall. Clean your lenses."

"I saw it, when I mentioned her," Komorov's provoking expression fell and he formed one of suspicion. Weaseling, snooping, dangerous curiosity – that's what Komorov was best known for. "Why do you keep that scrawny girl around? Yekaterina is gone, she has – "

"He~ey! No secret conversations, you two!" Major Brize called cheerfully from the table. The other two men were looking at them questioningly. "Why don't you join us, comrades?" Zenchikov asked carefully. He was asking Komorov more than he was Ivan; no one ordered Ivan, except for Motova, who was drunk enough to get away with it, and he didn't even mean it half the time.

For once, Ivan was glad for their useless games. He pulled his chair closer and watched their game of cards, leaving Komorov behind. No one commented, assuming he'd been put in his place by Braginski. He forced himself to enjoy the game, if not, he was sure he'd throw Komorov across the lawn.

From her seat on the bench, Natalya had a good view of her brother's profile. She focused intently on him, looking up from her lap often, until he moved to the way back and was completely out of her line of sight. She sighed and turned the page on her sketchbook.

"Hm, why'd you stop?" Eduard looked at her from his thick book. He managed to carry a lot of things in that black duffel bag of his.

"I can't think of a subject." Natalya muttered. She'd like to practice with landscapes, since she had difficulty with those, but there was nothing but endless white. White…. She disguised her shudder as a shiver.

"How about the snow? It hasn't been walked on at all, and there's a good view of the gazebo from here."

It's like he was halfway reading her mind, almost there, but not quite. She frowned and looked away, and he quickly said, "Or not. We don't have to be out here, you know, I just wanted you to get some fresh air, we can go back in, it IS rather cold …"

"I don't care about the weather. Though, I really don't like… snow." She used to like it. Maybe if it were a different color.

"Well, it is a pain to walk in. And it really stops traffic. Everyone acts like they're going crazy from being stuck inside."

"It's not that," Natalya sighed again, a little frustrated with her doctor. Well, it's not like he was a therapist; he was a farm boy, he couldn't pick up on things. "All the white reminds me of the … hospital. The room I was in."

"Oh." Eduard mentally hit himself for being so oblivious. It's not like he was trained in this sort of thing, just being on this massive property was strange enough, his main objective was to just get his sister home. "I- sorry. Hm." He coughed into his palm, trying to fake as much as he could that he genuinely needed to clear his throat.

Natalya only stayed silent for a few seconds, and then she flipped her sketchpad to a fresh page towards the back and turned directly to him. Eduard was a taken a bit off guard. "Um, yes?"

"I guess you'll have to do."

"Er, what?" Eduard blinked, then looked down and saw her hand already rapidly sketching. How did it move so fast? She was putting together an outline of… his head it looked like. "O-oh, it's me."

"Is that a problem?" Natalya didn't snap or sound bothered, even if drawing a head seemed to take a lot of concentration. Her eyes rapidly flickered from him to the page.

"Well, no, I guess not…. No, it's fine." Eduard affirmed to Natalya, and watched her sketch. The head took shape and she added the rough shapes of his nose, eyes and mouth. Quickly, she looked up, and he jolted back with wide eyes.

She almost drew a smile. "You'll have to sit still and keep the same expression, you know."

In just thirty minutes she'd sketched, drawn over and shaded a near perfect likeness of him. Eduard looked at it in surprise. He'd seen her sketch, but he'd never seen a finished product – he was impressed. It was good she had an outlet like this – especially since she's so talented at it.

"Have you always been drawing – um, sketching?"

"No… I started doing it in the hospital." Natalya quickly flipped to the previous picture of her brother and started working on it. The men at the gazebo were blocking his face. She challenged herself to perfectly draw his likeness from memory. "Yekaterina sent me pictures to keep in my diary. I really had nothing to do… So I just began doodling."

"I'd hardly call that doodling! But it's good you're doing that, especially if it relaxes you."

She gave a light nod in response, almost completely lost in her work. Eduard appreciated the silence, and he contemplated to the sound of her pencil rapidly moving and occasional noises of deep concentration. She seemed to focus intently when it came to her art. Maybe art and her family had nothing to do with it; she just needed a distraction, something to pull her mind away from… those things.

Eduard suppressed a sigh and slouched against the cold bench. It seemed everyday he had something new to be overwhelmed about. He wondered how Regina had been handling this… everything. This city life was a completely different world. People in his village broke their backs just getting enough to support their families, and this comfortable family was so bored that they kidnapped little girls to play music for them.

He looked at Natalya, and despite her face appearing so docile and focused at her task, he recalled her previous doctor's papers. Eduard's eyes went to the gazebo, where he caught glimpses of Ivan Braginski. A man he was taught and raised to fear, a man who tore a hole in his family for selfish, stupid reasons.

Eduard clenched his fists, taking his eyes away from the profile of the Colonel. Natalya glanced at him, then back to her art. He didn't notice. His mind was far from the Braginski manor.

_Just a little longer,_ He tried to tell himself. _It'll only be a little longer._

"Hey, you guys. I just remembered something rather important."

Normally the group ignored most of Brize's chattering, but the seriousness in his voice made them pay attention – though not enough to suspend their game of cards.

"What's that, now?" Motova just stopped himself from taking another drink of his flask.

"Er, well, important to Braginski and Komorov," Brize said, grinning sheepishly to his older comrades. Ivan raised his eyebrow lightly and Komorov simply ignored the young man as he continued, "Big political party tonight, optional, for once. Though, maybe not optional for their rising stars." Brize turned to the two men, heavily hinting at them with his waggling eyebrows.

Ivan wondered if he was even able to hold back his grimace. Motova laughed and took a deep drink before stowing away his near-empty flask. "Naturally! Our comrades are quite the celebrities in our little circle."

"Not little anymore, mind you." Komorov said sharply. Who did this drunken bastard think he was talking to? His remark made Motova duck his head submissively, but it did little to tide Komorov's steadily rising temper. He glanced over to Ivan. An icy mask, as expected.

"Another rally?" Ivan asked in an even tone, setting down his cards, signaling boredom with the game rather than defeat. "I've had my fair share of those for this entire month. It's the same every time."

Komorov's lip twitched. Did the spoiled Braginski son find himself so above his comrades? Zenchikov flopped down his own cards, tired of the game as well. "Guess it pays to be the son of a lower rank sometimes."

_Lazy pig._ Komorov neatly shuffled his cards together and set them down. His piercing gaze glanced to Ivan as Brize chattered on like some yapping dog.

_He flinched. I know it. I saw it._

Ivan was half honestly answering Brize, half lightly insulting him. Of course Brize didn't answer, and then Motova loudly piped up and demanded they go inside due to the cold – or rather, for him to fill his flask.

_There is something about that Latvian – one might call it a stretch. But, my gut is never wrong of these things._

Komorov glanced at the forgotten chess board on the side of the table, the black and white pieces haphazardly scattered about.

_Who is she, Ivan? A little fling to anger daddy? Of all the mistresses to have, you choose a filthy Baltic –_

"Komorov." Ivan's voice pierced into his thoughts. It didn't trip the man up for a moment.

"Comrade?"

"Would you be interested in attending this rally with me?" The appearance in Ivan's light smile could be compared to a fox's. "It's so boring to just go alone."

"I wouldn't mind that at all, Comrade Colonel Braginski." Komorov answered stiffly. His reluctance went unnoticed by his fellow men. What was this sudden affability from Ivan?

"Excellent, thank you, comrade. I think we'll be much more entertained in each other's company."

_He wants to watch me then. Very well, he can certainly try. I have eyes where you are blind, Ivan._

Yekaterina bristled at the handful of letters her doorman handed to her. "Goodness, more of them?"

"I'm afraid so, Comrade Chazovaya. You are a shining star in many of their eyes." The doorman smiled warmly, setting down the papers beside her tea.

_I'm sure I am. _Yekaterina thought irritably, but lightly smiled back at the man and nodded for him to leave. The worst of the bitter winter was gone, and spring was upon them. She had an endless list of concerts and rallies to attend with Chazov's circle of friends. She was taking up her mother's job, arranging invitations and planning events to entertain. She had a book of Chazov's contacts – now her 'friends' as well – and was taken aback at the reach of the man's influence. Perhaps he wasn't as dull as she anticipated.

Not that it endeared him anymore to her. She was already tired of his jolly drinking and disrespect. The winter wasn't even finished and she was already so irritable … She sighed heavily too herself. _How can I expect myself to do this for years … ?_

Yekaterina hastily pushed those thoughts from her mind and focused on the biggest event of the summer: The White Nights Festival.

Naturally it would be covered head to toe in Soviet soldiers and speeches but she tried not to keep that from her excitement. Just a few times in her childhood had her family taken the journey to Petrograd to witness the beauty of the 'White Night' – the sun shining in the sky and through the clouds for hours and hours, long after it was supposed to set. She remembered the lively music and the performers, the games for the children. The first time she was so taken aback by all the excitement and noise, which she held fast to her brother's hand the entire evening. The second time he had to keep ahold of her, for she wanted to see and explore as much as she could. The third time, she played guardian to Natalya, who was in awe of the bustle but too shy to throw herself in the midst of it. Yekaterina held her little hand and walked her around the great plaza, showing her the games and sights she saw.

"_And over here, Nataha – see the dancers? Look how pretty their dresses are as they spin."_

_Natalya's little eyes widened and followed the beautiful women, attempting to keep up with their movements. "How do they go so fast, Katyusha?" She asked softly._

"_Oh, with magic, I suppose." Yekaterina giggled._

"_Magic?" Natalya quickly tore her eyes and looked up at her sister. "Really?"_

"_Yes, the magic of the White Lights… and the Scarlet Sails."_

_Yekaterina couldn't keep her smile down at Natalya wiggled in excitement. "Scarlet Sails? What's that?"_

"_It's the most magical thing in Petrograd – no, in Russia. It only appears in the summer."_

"_What does? What is it?"_

"_And it only appears during the night, when there's fireworks and lights and sparkles in the sky – "_

"_Tell me, Katyusha!" Natalya pulled on her sister's arms impatiently and Yekaterina's laugh only seemed to make her more anxious. "Tell meee!" _

_Yekaterina scooped up her sister in her arms and spun her as fast as she was able. Natalya laughed and felt like one of the dancing women. Maybe some magic was being given to her?_

"_The Scarlet Sails is a giant ship, Nataha. A beautiful ship on the water, with big red sails that glow!" _

"_Where's it go, Katyusha?" Natalya breathed as Yekaterina set her down, but she was still giddy, so she spun in place by herself._

"_Oh, wherever it wants! It's magic. I bet it doesn't even need the water. I bet it can just make those sails go big and fly." Yekaterina was starting to imagine it herself. Perhaps the beautiful dancers and the darkening sky, a signal for the fireworks to start soon, were getting to her. "And it flies all night, and all day."_

"_But where's it go?" Natalya asked impatiently. She lost her footing mid-spin and stumbled on the uneven road, and Yekaterina was quick to catch her and bring the small girl into her arms. She smelled like the flowers they were passing out. _

"_Anywhere, Nataha." Yekaterina lightly pet her hair and led them to a bench to sit down. "Anywhere you want."_

"_Away from here?" _

_Yekaterina stiffened a moment, and then relaxed as Natalya began to snuggle into her lap. She would probably fall asleep before the night fell and the fireworks started. "… Well, anywhere you want, Nataha."_

_It's what Ivan always told her when she asked about the Scarlet Sails, when she was younger and the ship seemed like something ethereal and enchanted. He told her the fireworks were the magic the ship didn't need, and they lit up the sky and fell down so everyone could have some. He climbed up the railing by the docks and extended his arms, clamping his hands together. He pretended he caught some, and would only sprinkle some on Yekaterina if she promised to close her eyes._

_As she predicted, little Natalya was asleep by the time the fireworks started. Yekaterina didn't bother to leave their bench, honestly, the performers and visitors had mostly cleared from the plaza, rushing to the docks to view the Scarlet Sails._

_She didn't mind missing it. The ship just didn't seem as impressive without the idea that it was powered by magic._

_The girl watched the fireworks as she pet her sister's soft hair. She extended her arms, clamped her hands together, and sprinkled the magic over Natalya._

"Comrade Chazovaya, I'm terribly sorry to bother you again, but there are just a few more invitations for you."

Yekaterina nearly jumped a foot from her seat and the doorman flushed from embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you so terribly – "

"No, I'm sorry," Yekaterina cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I was just – s-so, what do you have for me?"

"Just these. It should be all for today," He handed her the documents and left.

She sighed and opened them, but her mind was far from concentrating on their contents. She set several aside, putting them off for the next day. She stopped herself suddenly when she read the name on the last one.

"David Ostriakh? Goodness! How did he … ?" She tore open the envelope with newfound vigor, and excitedly read the letter. He was one of the most famous violin masters in the Soviet Union, and he was one of the performers she dreamed of listening to live. For all her family's influence, she never thought she was able to get a personal audience, and the one time he was in town was when her father forbade her from 'wasting her time' with music.

She had to read the letter twice, and even then she didn't believe. The Ostriakh Trio, playing shortly after the Scarlet Sails event! Comrade David Ostriakh himself, a true master of his instrument …

Wouldn't … wouldn't it be truly magical if Regina were to hear him play? No, if she were to meet him in person? If … he were to listen to her music?

At once Yekaterina retrieved a pen and clean paper, and hastily wrote out a formal request to meet with the Trio. Her attempt at politeness was dashed due to the sheer childish excitement and lightness she felt in her heart. It allowed her mind to float away from old memories, and away from the guests she was supposed to be readying for that night.

Chazov was not in town, and wouldn't come home for at least two weeks, but that did not stop a good number of his associates and friends, military and personal alike, from swamping their great visiting and dining rooms. Yekaterina was expected to receive all of them in the best of her finery, looking more radiant than any woman.

Yekaterina's mother played this role well and naturally, her conversation and charisma flowed like wine in a glass. Yekaterina hardly felt as graceful, and while she was more than able to talk with her guests, she found their idle gossip, false compliments and grumbling complaints off-putting. It was difficult to stand them for more than a minute. Several times she made the excuse of having to greet someone or wanting a refill of wine in order to escape.

The evening was still young, Yekaterina thought bitterly. She already wanted to get out of the tight dress and she knew she could only escape from her guests so many times before she had to eventually stay and converse. She sighed heavily as a servant filled her wine glass, and idly looked about the crowd. Her eyes wandered across the unfamiliar faces that looked too similar, until they froze on one face.

Two of them, actually. They were dressed remarkably different from everyone else – not underdressed, just different. And one of the men looked strangely familiar. When the older-looking man laughed and the younger one made a light grimace, she instantly remembered. He was the one she clumsily met at the ballet theatre. How strange for them to be here!

Her curiosity overcoming her dislike of small talk, Yekaterina quickly made her way to the two men. By the time she was able to push through a throng of heavier women, the oldest had left, leaving the man she ran into by himself. Somehow, she was alright with that.

"Um, pardon me, comrade." She spoke up amidst the loud voices. She was surprised to see the man jumped and almost dropped his glass. "Oh-! I'm terribly sorry – I almost dropped -!" Just then he seemed to truly look at her, and his face flushed with memory. "O-Oh, what a strange coincidence, seeing you again!"

Yekaterina laughed carelessly in spite of herself. "Not completely. This is my house."

The man took a moment to register this, his face becoming redder. "… How embarrassing, I must confess I didn't read the invitation entirely … That, and I didn't catch your name after I rudely ran into you."

"I didn't give you a chance to ask." Yekaterina gave him a gentle smile, the one she was known best for. It said she harbored no ill will towards him at all, and he seemed much less nervous, yet he still blushed. She said, "My name is Yekaterina Chazovaya. I'm entertaining my husband's associates while he is away in Leningrad."

"And my name is Mathieu Bonnefoy." He smiled cordially back at her, his nervousness replaced with youthful goodness. Yekaterina couldn't help but feel he was out of place, a little dog caught between sharks and vultures. "My brother and I are representatives from the FCF in France." Well, that certainly explained the charming accent. It made his Russian sounds so different – in a good way.

"How wonderful to meet a comrade outside of the Union." Yekaterina said, quickly keeping herself in check. Discuss politics with men, society with women. It didn't matter that she was yearning to ask him about his homeland, one she knew little about. "Might I ask why you are here in Moscow? One of the largest rallies of the year is being held in Leningrad. My brother, father and husband are attending as we speak."

Mathieu's embarrassed grimace was decidedly charming. "Yes, yes, that … It was one of the most important events on our itinerary… My brother insisted on a detour here to watch a great ballet, supposedly, a French classic being translated to Russian for the first time. I love the theatre, of course, yet it drove us completely off-schedule. This is the best substitute we found." His smile went shy and sheepish, hinting he was almost happy for the detour.

Yekaterina couldn't blame him in the least, and she didn't bother with anymore talk of politics. She asked excitedly, "I heard of that ballet performance – Unfortunately, I couldn't attend its opening night. Please tell me about it; I'd love to see it."

Mathieu's eyes lit up and matched her's. "Truly, you'd like to see it? I didn't think – well, see, I suppose I should explain the French history behind it."

"Please do!"

"Well, it takes place around the time of Napoleon, and the main character was once a soldier – "

"_Mathieu~!"_

The two's attentions were instantly taken away from each other as a handsome man threw his arm wildly around Mathieu and nearly knocked him over.

Mathieu choked, "Francois – honestly-!"

"A great gathering you have here, Comrade Chazovaya!" He announced loudly, lifting his wine glass to Yekaterina. She hesitated but he hardly took notice. "A room full of progressive minds and rich ideals. I expected nothing less in your beautiful capital. Us FCF representatives have been treated wonderfully by our comrades!"

Mathieu managed to escape from Francois' headlock as he spoke, and Yekaterina nodded simply. "I'm happy to hear that, Comrade Bonnefoy."

"Your hosting skills are as impeccable as your beauty, Comrade Chazovaya. Do not be a stranger to my brother and I in the future." Francois swiftly took Yekaterina's empty hand, kissed her knuckles, then dramatically swept past her into a throng of men who her heatedly discussing the state of the Union.

Yekaterina watched him go with amusement, her cheeks lightly tinted pink. He was certainly the opposite of his brother. "Comrade Mathieu, your brother holds an interesting enthusiasm for our – "

She turned and faced a mortified and pale Mathieu, and it took several harsh pokes and snaps of her finger to budge him from his trance.

He instantly sputtered in a mix of heavily-accented Russian, "I-I-I'm so sorry Madame – er, Comrade Chazovaya! My brother – gah, he can be like that around beautiful women – Ah! I don't mean to offend you, please, you are very lovely this evening, and my brother, well, he's not subtle about anything – "

"Indeed not." Yekaterina cut him off and attempted to stifle her light-hearted mirth, but his flustering was too much. "Don't act so terrified, Comrade Mathieu! I'm not offended at all."

"You're positive?" He was all concern, and it struck Yekaterina that this was the first time a man was apologizing for possibly offending her by remarking on her appearance. It was also the first time one had asked after her well-being.

"I am, Comrade Mathieu." She lingered for a second, and she knew she ought to attend to the other guests. His brother coming around to them again was the only thing that made her budge. A sigh came from her before she could stop it. "I have to speak with the guests that have just arrived. It was good seeing you again, Comrade Mathieu."

Yekaterina gave an informal and friendly goodbye, a wave and a smile. He did the same, except with a boyish blush. She disappeared in the throng of the guests, and Mathieu didn't see her for the rest of the night.

For a high-ranking military man's wife, she was certainly friendly, and so young and pretty. She was very different from the wives he and Francois had spoken with before, but he learned from another party guest that the marriage was very recent. 'Give her time,' The man said. 'She'll become as bitter and cold as all the other wives.'

Such a nice girl, becoming like one of those old crones? Mathieu didn't think it was possible. Rather, he didn't want to think about it. He thought this as he sat on the window sill of their hotel room, looking out at the dreary early spring night.

"…. It's far better than I anticipated, Mathieu. Mon dieu, I can't wait to write back to our comrades in Paris of our progress! What if we were the ones to start some sort of revolution?"

Only half of Mathieu's attention was being given to his brother, or rather, just a third of it. He was drunk and rambling and romanticizing, though he could do the latter even better when he was sober. Francois Bonnefoy, the romantic, the charismatic, the one who joined the FCF with a firm belief that one day he'd make France as great as the enlightened Soviet Union.

Mathieu let out a soft sigh, fogging the window slightly. As he drew a little face in it, he thought of himself. Such a pushover, a doormat, people forgetting he was in the room half the time. He knew he held onto his brother's enthusiasm and confidence. Mathieu hardly had any for himself, and when he stood next to Francois, he felt like he was important, even if it was just for an hour at a party or a rally or a meeting. He wasn't as good-looking or smart, he wasn't entirely sure of spreading a 'great communist utopia' around Europe. Half the things Francois said went right through his ears.

Mathieu felt as if he was using his brother, and it hurt him some days, but then Francois would pat him on the shoulder. He'd thank Mathieu genuinely for coming with him to the heart of the Soviet Union, for believing in him. Mathieu didn't understand how it was possible for Francois to have any insecurity or doubt in himself. He was just so … different.

That girl was certainly different too. Mathieu felt like a complete fool, bumbling like that in front of her, having to apologize for Francois' loose tongue. He had to remind his brother that women didn't like being spoken to like that here. She didn't seem to mind, though … He wished he could've told her about the ballet …. Her eyes seemed to simply light up when he mentioned it. They did, didn't they? He hoped he wasn't seeing things.

"Mathieu? _Mathieu!_"

The poor boy was startled for the umpteenth time that evening as he turned and found his brother smirking right at him. Mathieu nearly fell off the window sill in surprise – well, he balanced himself for a second, then fell off.

Francois laughed at his clumsiness. "Good to see you're back with the living."

"Ow, thanks a lot," Mathieu grumbled and shuffled himself up. "Anyway, sorry, what were you saying?"

"I wasn't." Francois grinned. "I was finished a while ago."

"Oh." Mathieu flushed lightly. "Er. Sorry."

"You seemed quite preoccupied, dear brother." Francois tapped his stubbled chin lightly. "You were sighing so frequently, and you were staring out like some lost, forlorn dog!"

Mathieu rolled his eyes and groaned, "Oh, don't even_ start_ – "

"One would think you were pining for a lost love~! But, I know! It's Chazovaya's lovely wife, isn't it?"

"N-No! What are you thinking?!" Mathieu flushed royal red as Francois tittered. "Oh, oh, my dear Mathieu ~ So young, already experiencing his first taste of forbidden love ~!"

"Forbidden-!? Francois! That's not even close to funny -! I'll throw you out on the streets and you can sleep in the snow!"

"Ohohoho, dear Mathieu, would you like some advice from a dear brother?"

"_Non_. Not at all."

"Well, you see, when I was a young man and father sent me away to the bustling, beautiful city of Rome – "

"You promised no more Rome stories!" Mathieu covered his burning ears and proceeded to chase Francois across the room, who laughed merrily and relayed his story with surprising detail, despite his being chased and completely drunk.

The flickering lamp was a poor source of light, and the young Lithuanian's eyes strained along with his hand, but he kept at his task, ignoring the aches completely. The sun had long set and he knew he ought to be sleeping – his eyes had been burning for a good hour now – but he chased all his tasks doggedly, and this was no different.

Toris mumbled to himself and ran a sweaty hand through his hair as he crossed out names, wrote some, crossed some out and wrote down a few more. Papers were scattered all across his desk, but not the usual ballet performance scripts or drawings of formations on the stage. They were official Polish, German and Russian documents.

"This is … no. No, that was ten years earlier. This seems plausible, but there's such little information … No, no."

His hand wrote hastily, his handwriting almost unintelligible. He was so absorbed in the paperwork that the sensation of an animal at his ankle made his heart jump from his chest.

Toris looked down with a gasp, and then sighed wearily. Just the cat. He bent down and scratched behind its ears, calming himself down with its purrs. "Goodness, you scared me, Po."

He went back to his desk, suddenly overcome with fatigue and frustration. The information that butler gave him wasn't adding up. But what reason did he have to lie about such a thing? The crotchety old man wasn't the type to make up elaborate pranks, and in the slim to none chance he was, this wasn't thing to joke about.

Once again defeated by the tormenting investigation, Toris gathered the papers with little care of the order they were in. He lifted up the floorboard just under his bed, removed a metal box and locked them securely inside. After testing the box and assuring it would stay closed, he set it back in the floor's hiding spot. The key went to its usual place, in the dirt of the flowerpot on his desk.

In bed, he had wandering thoughts as he drifted to sleep. Wouldn't it be something if it were true? Felicja would have a real chance at happiness. She'd have all the delicious food and beautiful dresses and little ponies she could ever wish for.

Toris' lack of results was overshadowed by the thought of Felicja's surprise and happiness when he took her away, when she found out the truth of her family. Her radiant green eyes were enough for him to keep at it until he found his answer. He didn't care how long he'd have to keep searching.

* * *

There's really nothing more to say than I'm terribly sorry for putting this story on hiatus for so long. I really love it, and this pairing, and just recently I've gone over the helpful feedback, the wonderful compliments and all the great reviews everyone has given me. I actually got pretty shaky and teared up! I know I probably disappointed a lot of people by just stopping this story so suddenly ... It was pretty hypocritical of me, given that I'm sorely upset whenever a great story turns out to not be finished.

That being said - it's a new year, and as cheesy as I find New Year's resolution, it's mine to finish this story. I'm already halfway through, and I've planned out almost all of the remaining chapters. Of course suggestions and feedback on historical accuracy are still welcomed and wanted! I want to finish this for everyone, and even though I'm showing a lot of pairings and characters, I promise it's still RussLat, and I plan to deliver!

This chapter is more of a set-up for future events and an introduction to Mathieu. The next one is, admittedly, probably filler. Chapter 12, on the other hand, will be rife with shipping and drama and I might have to split it in two. Then again, I love long updates, and you guys are more than deserving of it!

Tons of appreciation and love from me to you all, and a Happy New Year for everyone!


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